


Daphne’s Letter from the Future

by TomHRichardson



Series: Harry's Fortieth Birthday [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Do-Over, F/M, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Ron Weasley Bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 95,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21665026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomHRichardson/pseuds/TomHRichardson
Summary: AU. Two days after returning home from fifth-year classes and O.W.L. exams, Daphne Greengrass finds on her pillow, a letter from her much-older self. Included in this letter is a Muggle envelope addressed to Harry Potter from his much-older self.Daphne’s letter reveals that elderly Daphne and elderly Harry, after each had outlived a spouse, got married. Marrying Harry Potter, elderly Daphne assures young Daphne, was the best thing to ever happen to elderly Daphne in her long life.Elderly Daphne also tells her teenaged self—Sirius Black’s just-read will emancipates almost-sixteen-year-old Harry Potterandgrants him the Lordship of the House of Black. In turn, emancipating the Potter Heir turns him into Lord Potter. Harry Potter gaining two Lordships means he’ll need two wives. Young Daphne, why wait till you need a cane before you become betrothed to the best man in Wizarding Britain?This is an alt-universe GreenPot Harmony (H/Hr and HP/DG) story that bashes Albus Dumbledore and Ron Weasley.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Series: Harry's Fortieth Birthday [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873774
Comments: 479
Kudos: 1269





	1. Hello, Young Daphne!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon does not say whom Daphne Greengrass marries, or even _whether_ she marries. On the other hand, Astoria Greengrass eventually marries Draco Malfoy; Astoria Malfoy dies of a congenital blood curse in 2019.
> 
> Canon does not say when the will of Sirius Black was read, or what the will’s contents were. However, it is clear that Dumbledore’s summary of the will’s contents (in _Half-Blood Prince_ Chapter 3) is incomplete.
> 
> Once Sirius Black dies, canon never mentions who the current Lord/Lady Black is.
> 
> Canon implies that the Black family owns other properties besides Number 12 Grimmauld Place, but these other properties are neither named nor located. Canon treats the townhouse at Number 12 Grimmauld Place as the main Black-family property.
> 
> According to the “1996” timeline at the Harry Potter Wiki (HARRYPOTTER dotFANDOMdotCOM slash WIKI slash 1996), Harry Potter completes his fifth year and returns home on the Hogwarts Express on 26th June, 1996. In _Half-Blood Prince_ , Harry Potter does not appear in the story until Chapter 3, when Dumbledore visits Harry and the Dursleys at Number 4, Privet Drive. Dumbledore’s visit (according to the Harry Potter Wiki’s “1996” timeline) happens on 12th July, 1996. We are left to presume that in canon, nothing happens to Harry between 26th June and 12th July except for suffering a rotten life with the Dursleys—which, at this point in the heptalogy, is not worth mentioning. The reason I am explaining all this is that in this AU story, much of the story happens during the sixteen days between 26th June and 12th July.
> 
> EDITED TO ADD, AUGUST 2020: When J. K. Rowling wrote the Prophecy, she was a bit poetic in her wording. This poetic wording is why the Prophecy talks about “the power the Dark Lord knows not,” not “the power the Dark Lord does not know.” So since the Prophecy is not using words in their everyday sense, it does not mean much that the Prophecy says that Harry has the power to “vanquish” the Dark Lord—not “kill,” not “defeat,” the word written is _vanquish_.
> 
> But what does the word _vanquish_ mean? It means _To destroy so utterly that he/she/it is gone forever and is never coming back._ Alas, at the end of _Deathly Hallows_ , I argue that Voldemort is _not_ vanquished. He is killed by Harry, yes, and _most of_ the Death Eaters are killed (though not by Harry)—but all three Malfoys are alive at the end of _DH_ , and the Blood-Purity Doctrine is not discredited. To “vanquish” Voldemort, I say, Tom Riddle would need to be killed forever, _and_ all the Death Eaters be killed, _and_ the Blood-Purity Doctrine become a joke— _and_ Harry would need to achieve all three feats singlehandedly.
> 
> What I did was to figure out how Harry could make vanquishing Voldemort actually happen, then I wrote a story of Harry vanquishing the Dark Tosser, not merely killing him. It is that story that you read now.
> 
> (In this story, I also wrote Harry getting involved with two teen birds, Daphne and Hermione, because I’m a bloke, and blokes like this sort of thing.)

**Friday, 28th June, 1996  
** **Two days after students left Hogwarts  
** **Ten days after the death of Sirius Black  
** **Greengrass Manor**

During dinner, Lord Cyrus Greengrass looked at his elder daughter and said, “Daphne, you are two years away from completing your schooling. Which means, you are two years from the time you may marry. It is time for me to begin negotiating your betrothal. Is there any young man you fancy?”

Black-haired beauty Daphne shot the man a look. “Father, you know that only Muggle-borns marry for love. I expect you will place me with whomever shall give the most benefit to House Greengrass.”

Cyrus Greengrass asked carefully, “So you truly don’t care whom you marry?”

Daphne flipped her shiny black hair over her shoulder. “As long as he isn’t Draco Malfoy or Ronald Weasley, then _yes_ , I don’t care.”

Daphne’s younger sister Astoria said, “Daph, what do you have against Draco? He’s smart, and definitely cute.”

Cyrus was smiling. “No to Draco, and no to the youngest Weasley boy. _Ha_ , I figured trying to set up a betrothal for the ‘Ice Queen’ would be harder than this.”

Daphne scowled. “I _hate_ that title, Father. And I do _not_ understand why I’ve been given it.”

“ _I_ do,” said Astoria.

****

**After dinner  
** **In Daphne’s bedroom**

Daphne had entered her bedroom to change clothes, before flooing over to Davis House to pay a visit to Tracey. But as soon as Daphne entered her bedroom, she got a feeling of disquiet, a feeling that something was _not quite right_.

After a minute, Daphne realised what was bothering her: a giant envelope lay on her pillow—an envelope which had _not_ been on her pillow _before_ dinner.

Daphne walked across her bedroom and picked up the envelope. She gasped when she read the front of the envelope—

No surprise, Daphne’s name was written in the middle of the envelope, as the addressee; but her full name _also_ was written in the corner, as the sender. The writing was her own, and yet it wasn’t—the sender’s handwriting was shaky.

Inside the giant envelope were several things, including a long parchment that had been pleats-folded, and that had Daphne’s name written on top in a shaky version of Daphne’s own handwriting. Daphne unfolded the long parchment.

****

Greetings, young Daphne, from a much, _much_ older version of you!

Your professors at Hogwarts declare that the past can’t be changed. Well, this letter makes an exception—but for this letter to go from my hand to your eyes requires goblin magic, _plus_ magic from Harry Potter’s house-elf Handy, _plus_ special magic from elderly Harry Potter himself. As for elderly Harry Potter’s contribution to the spell, he can do certain magic that no witch and no other wizard can do, either in my time or in yours. Young Harry Potter can’t work this magic either, but this might soon change, elderly Harry Potter thinks.

You notice how vague I’m being about elderly Harry Potter’s magic? That’s because he has a Big Secret, and I’ve promised to keep his Big Secret as I write this letter.

But there is one truth about elderly Harry Potter that I tell you plainly, young Daphne: He is my husband. And marrying him was the best decision I ever made.

Harry Potter is the embodiment, the epitome, of what Gryffindors try to be. I don’t mean this in a _bad_ way—no, I mean this in a quite _good_ way. Harry Potter, my husband, talks, acts and _thinks_ like a solid-gold, capital-H Hero. Is it any wonder that I, who believed in my youth that only foolish girls married for love, am now so much in love with my husband?

****

At the moment, Daphne was strongly tempted to decide that the letter was a Weasley-twins prank. Except that inside the big envelope, besides a parchment that had been written in a shaky version of Daphne’s own handwriting, was a second, smaller envelope that contained some kind of book inside. The smaller envelope was addressed to Harry Potter, with the sender being Harry Potter; the handwriting was different than elderly Daphne’s handwriting.

(Daphne found in the big envelope one other thing: a recipe for a potion. The potion was oddly named, and the text of the potion-recipe was typeset-printed on Muggle paper.)

Daphne thought of the Harry Potter she knew: the boy with the messy black hair, the round glasses, the green eyes that showed so many expressions, and the _Gryffindor robes_. Daphne wondered, _How could I ever marry him?_ Whilst Daphne did not love this Harry, she did _like_ him, when the boy made a fool of Draco, Professor Snape or the headmaster.

Daphne read on.

****

Just about the time you read this letter, young Daphne, you’ll have told Father, “I don’t care whom I marry, just so long as it isn’t Draco Malfoy or Ron Weasley.” The good news is, you’ll get your wish. The bad news is, the man I wound up marrying—I’ll call him Sam Slytherin—was just as bad. I gave him two sons, so his House and the House of Greengrass both had heirs, then I spent my remaining years with the man concentrating on _not killing him_. I’m still amazed that I achieved this. When he died of a heart attack, I felt so free.

Meanwhile, Harry Potter killed Voldemort, a few years from now, then his married life turned strange. _Potter and Granger never married_ —shocking, huh? Instead, Granger married Ron Weasley and Harry married Ginny Weasley. It was no surprise when Hermione spoke a divorce declaration against her husband in 2017, after Ron cheated on a Muggle driving test. (Don’t ask me to explain why this got Hermione so angry; this is apparently a Muggle-born and Muggle-raised issue that Purebloods never will understand.) No, the only surprise about Hermione divorcing Ron Weasley was that it took her nineteen years to do it. Anyway, Granger clearly was hoping that Harry would divorce Ginny and would marry her—and Harry admitted to me that he was sorely tempted. But Ginny hadn’t done anything to deserve a divorce, and a divorce would have saddened Harry’s three kids as badly as a Dementor attack would have, so Harry disappointed Granger by never divorcing Ginny. Granger never remarried.

By the time Harry was free to remarry, because Ginny was dead, Granger had died a week earlier, of some Muggle disease. (Capricorn?) Two months after Granger and Ginny died, Harry asked me out; four months after our first date, Harry Potter and I married.

Six days from now, as I write this, I too will die. This explains why my handwriting is so shaky. How do I know the date of my death? Because Harry told me when my death would be, and I have reason to believe him.

So a week from now, if the timeline has not been changed by this letter, Harry Potter will have outlived Sam Slytherin, Granger, Ginny and me. Harry’s long life is not due to luck or good breeding—no, it relates to his Big Secret that I am not telling you.

****

Daphne paused, and wondered whom she could tell about this letter. After some thought, she realised that if this was indeed a letter from her future self, she could not tell anyone in her family about it, without a strong reason—Daphne would be shipped off to Saint Mungo’s if she talked too freely.

Likewise, Daphne dared not breathe a word to her friend Tracey.

The only person with whom Daphne felt free to talk about this strange letter was Harry Potter—whom Daphne barely knew.

Daphne read the end of the letter.

****

Enclosed with the letter to you, and with elderly Harry’s letter to young Harry, is a recipe for a kind of healing potion. “Hemoglobin Repair Potion 46” is a strange name for a potion, but if Astoria drinks this potion at least once every six months, she won’t die of the blood curse that kills her in 2019. Interestingly, this potion was invented by Holly Longbottom, the granddaughter of Hannah Abbott and Potions-class disaster Neville Longbottom.

The will-reading for Sirius Black was done a day or two ago, your time. Black’s will declared Harry Potter to be an emancipated minor, after naming him the Heir to the Lordship of House Black. Thanks to Headmaster Dumbledore, who has an unhealthy urge to meddle with Harry’s life, Harry never was told about the will-reading. (Never try to send Harry an owl; Dumbledore has put an owl-redirect on mail going to Harry, except for Harry’s own owl.) Anyway, young Harry is now Lord Black and Lord Potter, but he doesn’t know this, and it’s up to you to send him an elf to tell him the news!

And _then_ , young Daphne, ask young Harry if he would consider you as Lady Black, before some other Pureblood princess gets to him first. Such as, say, Susan Bones, she of the chest that boys notice.

****

As elderly Daphne had requested, young Daphne ordered a Greengrass house-elf, Bluegrass, to deliver to Harry his cross-time letter plus a copy of elderly Daphne’s cross-time letter.

With the two letters, Daphne wrote a note for Harry: “I truly don’t know what to think about any of this, except that I think the ‘elderly Daphne’ letter is authentic. I’d love to hear your thoughts. And congratulations on your elevation, Lord Black-Potter.”

****

**Harry’s bedroom  
** **At Number 4, Privet Drive**

Harry Potter was surprised when a house-elf whom Harry did not know, _pop_ ped into Harry’s bedroom and handed the boy a short parchment, a long parchment, and an envelope.

Harry was shocked when he recognised the handwriting outside the envelope as a variant of his own handwriting.

But _that_ shock was _nothing_ compared to the shock that Harry got, again and again, as he read the letter inside, which came in the form of a computer-printed, 73-page book.

But besides feeling shock as he read the book that his older self had written just for him, young Harry felt anguish. Whilst young Harry sometimes grew frustrated with Albus Dumbledore, Harry _admired_ the headmaster; but elderly Harry argued that Dumbledore was a “dark lord” who was scheming to kill Harry as the means to kill Voldemort and to grab glory for himself. Young Harry strongly hoped that elderly Harry’s opinions about the headmaster were wrong.


	2. Gringotts

**Early the next morning (a Saturday)  
** **Gringotts in Diagon Alley**

Harry, standing inside the two big entrance doors, watched through the glass as Dobby _pop_ ped onto the front steps of the bank—whilst holding Hermione’s hand. Hermione looked around, as she said something to Dobby; Dobby pointed to the entrance doors.

Hermione _rushed_ up the stairs and _jerked_ open a door to enter the bank.

Harry promptly was crushed in a Hermione-hug. “Oh Harry, I’m so glad to see you! Why weren’t you at the will-reading yesterday? Where are the Order members who are supposed to be guarding you? Does Professor Dumbledore know you’re here? Have you started on your homework?”

When Hermione eventually broke the hug, Harry grabbed her shoulders and stepped back. “Hermione, I’m _so sorry_ Dolohov nearly killed you! It’s _all_ my fault; I _didn’t think_.”

Hermione at first did not reply; instead, she gave Harry another crushing hug, as goblins and bank customers watched. Then quietly, Hermione murmured in Harry’s ear, “You _didn’t think_ five years ago, either. If you had, that troll would have killed me.”

Then Hermione broke the second hug. “Erm, Harry, shouldn’t you be getting in queue for a bank teller?”

Harry grinned at her. “I will, as soon as my _Pureblood Advisor_ arrives here.”

“Wait, you have a Pureblood Advisor? _Really?_ When did _this_ start? And who _is_ he? Or she?”

“My Pureblood Advisor—”

The door opened, and Daphne Greengrass walked in. She was wearing summer-season clothing—that just so happened to feature red and yellow.

“Potter. Granger,” Daphne said coolly.

Harry grinned. “In the circumstances, _Daphne_ , how about calling me _Harry?_ And you already know _Hermione_.”

Hermione demanded, “ ‘In the circumstances’? _Explain_ , Harry.”

Harry was grinning now. “Daphne is my Pureblood Advisor. She shall tell me what to do and to _not_ do, hopefully ahead of time, so that when I’m rubbing elbows with posh magical people, I don’t come across as a lout.”

Hermione said coldly, “I’m sure Augusta Longbottom could provide the same advice, _don’t you think?_ ”

Daphne said, “Grain— _Hermione_ , I’m not in competition with you. Not for O.W.L. scores, not for _anything_.” Daphne looked at Hermione with one eyebrow raised.

Harry said, “To answer your question, Hermione, whilst I respect Regent Longbottom, she can be _intimidating_ , ‘don’t you think?’ Besides, I’ve already got Molly Weasley telling me ‘I know what’s best for you.’ And let’s not forget Dumbledore.”

“ _Professor_ Dumbledore,” Hermione corrected. “Honestly, Harry.”

By now, the three were in queue to deal with a teller. Soon Harry was at the head of the line.

Harry said, “Teller, may your gold overflow and your enemies tremble. I’m Harry Potter; here’s my key to confirm my claim. But I want to talk to the Black account manager, not the Potter account manager—”

When the teller started to object, Harry explained, “I’m told the reading of Sirius Black’s will was held here yesterday, and I’m mentioned in the will, but I missed it.”

The teller said, “I see that your account has been flagged. Assistant Teller Axesharpener will take you to Director Ragnok; please wait over there.”

“Take you to _Director Ragnok?_ ” Daphne repeated. “ _My father_ has never met with Director Ragnok, and my father is the Head of an Ancient and Noble House!”

****

**Two minutes later  
** **Outside Ragnok’s office**

Axesharpener opened the door and gestured the three teens in. Harry and Daphne started to walk in, but Hermione balked. “Daphne, you and I _can’t_ go in. Professor Dumbledore sealed Harry’s part of the will; only Harry may hear it read.”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Hermione, Sirius Black was the Lord of an Ancient and Noble House; _nobody_ can seal his will, except _possibly_ during wartime.”

“But I’m _telling_ you, Professor Dumbledore sealed Harry’s parts of the will, by selective use of a silencing charm. As soon as the goblin read out Harry’s name, suddenly the goblin’s lips were still moving but nobody but Professor Dumbledore could hear the words anymore.”

Daphne said, “And _I’m_ telling _you_ that if Dumbledore did this, he did wrong. Will-readings are done with all beneficiaries gathered at once so that every interested person can hear every word of the will.”

Harry said, “Ladies, let me say two things. One, Dumbledore—don’t start, Hermione!—didn’t give me _one bloody hint_ about the will-reading yesterday, he didn’t arrange a way for me to come here, and he didn’t tell me afterwards what the will said. Two, for reasons of my own, whatever I hear today, I want _both of you_ to hear it too.”

Hermione said, “You want me to hear details about your finances? And...” Hermione side-nodded towards Daphne. _You want Greengrass to hear about your finances too?_

“I trust you, Hermione. And after something I learnt last night, I trust Daphne too.” Daphne looked shocked.

****

Thanks to reading elderly Daphne’s letter, neither young Harry nor young Daphne was surprised when Harry was told that he could claim two Lordships, three houses (Potter Manor, Number 12 Grimmauld Place and “the Black winter house in Dover”), and several vaults _apiece_ that were worth a total of two million galleons in coins. Plus, the vaults held stocks and bonds.

Neither Harry nor Daphne was surprised; Hermione, however, nearly fell out of her chair.

Harry claimed his Lordships, and his two Lordship rings. Harry was given a handful of new vault keys, which he pocketed. Then Ragnok said to Harry, “Lord Black-Potter, may I have your wand, please?”

Harry handed over his holly-and-phoenix-feather wand, Ragnok laid the wand on his desk, then the goblin passed a hand over the wand. Whilst handing the wand back, Ragnok explained, “I’ve removed the Underage-Magic Trace.”

“ _Brilliant!_ ” Harry exclaimed.

“Grumble-grumble,” Hermione said (though with a smile).

A minute later, Harry was delighted to be told that he could turn his Lordship rings invisible. Confused Daphne asked, “Why would you want to hide your rings, instead of showing them off?”

Harry sighed. “It’s an honesty cheque on Dumbledore.”

Then Harry said, “Speaking of whom, Dumbledore told me that Potter Manor is uninhabitable. Is this true?”

Ragnok looked at three sheets of parchment, then replied, “The wards are down and the building is damaged. It will take magic or money to make things right; but Potter Manor is hardly a pile of rubble.”

Harry nodded. “Something to think about later.”

****

On Ragnok’s desk were the wills of Harry’s parents, besides the will of Sirius Black. Dumbledore had sealed Harry’s parents’ wills back in 1981, in his capacity as Chief Warlock. But this sealing of the wills from _public_ view could not—and now _did_ not—stop the Potter Heir from requesting the reading of the Potter wills, once the Heir was an adult.

Ragnok already had read both James’ and Lily’s wills aloud. But something was poking at the back of Harry’s brain, so Harry began reading both wills for himself.

It did _not_ take Harry long to figure out what had been bothering him. Harry said aloud, “Right now I feel like punching Dumbledore’s face in, then inventing five new hexes just so I can hex the headmaster with them.”

“ _Oh?_ ” said Daphne. “What did Whiskers do _now?_ ”

Harry handed his father’s will to Hermione, saying, “Here, you’ve talked on the phone with my aunt and uncle. Look at the section of the will under ‘Harry’s Guardian.’ What leaps out at you?”

Meanwhile, Harry was answering Daphne’s question: “My guardian was _supposed to be_ Sirius Black. If he could not serve as guardian for some reason—such as he being a hot-tempered idiot and getting himself thrown in Azkaban—then my guardians were supposed to be Frank and Alice Longbottom. If they couldn’t be my guardians, then third on the list was Amelia Bones. Listed _nowhere_ as a possible guardian: Albus Dumbledore. Petunia Dursley, my mother’s sister, and her husband Vernon are mentioned in both wills, but in these words: ‘In no circumstances are Petunia and Vernon Dursley to be appointed as our son’s guardians.’ ”

Hermione had not spoken during Harry’s rant. Now she stood up, walked over to Harry and hugged him.

****

Ragnok asked, “Do you have any other business with Gringotts today, Lord Black-Potter?”

“I do. I’m not sure what a horcrux is, except that it’s something like Tom Riddle’s diary, it has something to do with Voldemort, and it’s nasty magic.”

“ _Quite_ nasty magic,” Ragnok agreed, scowling.

Hermione and Daphne looked confused.

Harry continued, “I’m told that there is a cup in Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault that is a horcrux. If so, I ask you to find it and destroy it.”

“A _horcrux?_ In _Gringotts?_ ” Ragnok roared. He bellowed in Gobbledygook, and two goblins ran into the room.

Ragnok yelled, “ _Something-something_ Bellatrix Lestrange _something-something-something_ ,” then the two goblins ran out.

Ragnok assured Harry, “The horcrux will be history within the hour.”

Harry felt happy. Elderly Harry had written, in his 73-page letter, how _he_ had removed the horcruxed Cup from Bellatrix’s vault. Young Harry decided that letting the goblins do the work, instead of breaking into the vault and escaping on a blind dragon, was surely a better deal for everyone. (Although in defence of the original plan, elderly Harry had confided that Hermione-polyjuiced-as-Bellatrix-Lestrange was _sexy_.)

Meanwhile, Daphne was saying, “If Bellatrix Lestrange has done this bad thing, can’t you seize half the money in her vault as punishment? There’s no sense in You-Know-Who getting his hands on her money if you goblins can legally grab piles of galleons instead.”

Ragnok gave Daphne a sharp-toothed grin and said “ _Done!_ ”

Then again Ragnok spoke with the calm of a banking professional: “Is there anything else that Gringotts can do for you today, Lord Black-Potter?”

“Yes, two things. Firstly, Dumbledore has put an owl-redirect on all mail going to me, except for my own owl. I’ve never received a bank statement from Gringotts.”

“ _Never?_ ” Ragnok snarled.

“So from now on, I ask that you do whatever it takes so that I get all my Gringotts statements. Ideally, without Dumbledore knowing we’ve outsmarted him.”

“Done,” Ragnok replied.

Daphne said, “I suggest ‘misplacing’ a few thousand galleons in Dumbledore’s vault for pulling that trick.”

Ragnok grinned a sharp-toothed smile at this suggestion.

Harry felt he should be defending Dumbledore’s good name from Daphne’s clear dislike, but Harry kept silent. Harry wasn’t convinced yet that the headmaster was secretly evil, but Harry knew about several things that the headmaster had done, and elderly Harry had revealed several more misdeeds, that allowed Dumbledore to be viewed unflatteringly.

Now Daphne asked Ragnok, “Who has access to Harry’s Potter vaults and Black vaults?” Daphne explained to Hermione, “In theory, Harry is the only person with access.”

Ragnok replied, “Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore have access to the Potter trust vault.” Ragnok picked up a parchment, glanced at it, and said, “Yesterday, Albus Dumbledore requested access to the Potter and Black family vaults. His request was refused.”

Harry thought, _The day I get access to new vaults, Dumbledore wants to take money from those vaults without me knowing? Dumbledore, have you turned into Mundungus now?_

Meanwhile, Hermione was saying, “I’m sure Professor Dumbledore had a good—”

Daphne said sarcastically, “ _Of course_ he had a good reason. Glow-in-the-dark purple robes are _expensive_.”

Harry said, “Deny Albus Dumbledore access to every vault I control. In fact, set it up so a dragon growls at Dumbledore if he stands too close to the vault door.”

Ragnok laughed. “We’ll do the first part. I don’t think I can promise about the dragon, however.”

Harry said, “Secondly, I’m told that you goblins have healers I can hire, who can do things that the healers at Saint Mungo’s can’t do?”

“Yes, we offer this service,” said Ragnok, in a _Where are you going with this?_ tone of voice.

“The lightning-bolt scar on my forehead _might_ be a horcrux,” Harry said calmly. Both Hermione and Daphne gasped. “I’m willing to pay good gold if you can destroy the Voldemort piece-of-soul, if it’s in my scar, then your healers healing me afterwards.”

Hermione hugged Harry; Daphne worriedly bit her lip.

Harry’s smile was challenging. “Director Ragnok, if I die on the Healer table, you’ll get no payment, you understand.”


	3. Gryffindor Courage

Harry, Hermione, Daphne, Ragnok and Axesharpener climbed into a double-length mining car, then headed to the vaults. Actually, the cart took everyone _below_ all the vaults, to the goblin village. Ragnok led the others into a building where all the goblins wore loose, white clothing.

“It smells strange in here,” Daphne commented.

“You’re smelling isopropyl alcohol,” Hermione said. “Muggle hospitals have the same smell.”

Ragnok spoke briefly with the chief goblin Healer, then Ragnok left. The chief goblin Healer and Axesharpener led Harry into a different part of the building, whilst Hermione sat in the waiting room and worried. Daphne acted unconcerned.

****

**A half-hour later**

Harry and the chief goblin Healer were back, with Harry’s famous scar covered with a gauze bandage.

Hermione question-bombed Harry: “Was there a horcrux in the scar? Did they remove it? How are you feeling?”

Daphne said, “ _Merlin_ , Granger, give Harry time to answer.”

It was the goblin Healer who answered: “We indeed found a horcrux attached to the scar.” Both Hermione and Daphne hissed. “There was also powerful Light magic attached to the scar—put there by his mother, we think. Anyway, we removed the horcrux, but not the Light magic.”

Harry grinned. “For half an hour of Healers’ work, I paid the price of two Firebolts. But it was _definitely_ worth the price.”

Hermione said, “This is good news! No more headaches now, no more bad dreams, and You-Know-Who can’t read your mind.”

“True,” Harry said. “This also changes how I relate to Dumbledore.”

“Wait, _Dumbledore?_ ” Daphne said. “What does whether your scar has a horcrux or not, have to do with the headmaster?”

Harry replied, “Daphne, _the book_ I received last night, explained everything. Supposedly.” Hermione wondered what Harry and Daphne were talking about.

By now, the chief goblin Healer had left, and only Axesharpener was in the waiting room with the three teenagers. Harry’s face turned serious, then he continued—

“Daphne, Hermione, it’s like this: One day I’ll have to battle Voldy to the death; it’s prophesied. But _according to the book Daphne sent me,_ Dumbles wants to convince me to make a ‘noble sacrifice’ on that day and _deliberately lose_ , so that when I die, the horcrux in my head dies. If all the other horcruxes have been destroyed by then, Voldy no longer is immortal; someone else can kill him.”

Hermione looked at Harry with an expression of horror. She said, “And for _you_ , such an argument would work. ‘Harry my boy, the only way for anyone to kill Voldemort is to let him first kill you’—you have such a ‘saving-people thing’ that you wouldn’t think twice, you’d walk up to Voldy and let yourself take an AK in the face.”

Daphne asked, “Would Dumbledore be right? If you still had the horcrux in you, would you _let_ yourself be killed when you fought You-Know-Who?”

Harry shrugged. “I’d be ashamed of myself for the rest of my life if I didn’t.”

Daphne stared at Harry. “Merlin, you really _are_ ‘a solid-gold, capital-H Hero.’ ”

Harry said, “Then, _according to the book,_ once I die ‘for the greater good,’ who is it who would actually kill Voldy? Dumbles. _The book claims_ Dumbles plans to fight Voldy and kill him, and become an even bigger hero in the wizarding world than when he defeated Grindelwald.”

Hermione said angrily, “Whilst _you_ would be remembered, if remembered at all, as the boy who tried and failed, such a tragedy.”

Daphne said, “Erm, Harry, if _anyone else_ told me, ‘The headmaster of my school is plotting to get me killed,’ I’d think the person saying this was _barking mad_.”

Harry sighed. “I’m not making any of this up, Daphne. The prophecy that has ruled my life was spoken _to Dumbledore_ before I was even born. When my parents died, Dumbles gave me to my magic-hating Muggle aunt, instead of to any of the guardians named in my parents’ wills. Why? _The book says_ it was so that I would grow up feeling unloved and alone. Now that I’m in Hogwarts, every summer I’m _imprisoned_ with my hateful relatives in Surrey—by Dumbles’s decree. Dumbles knew Sirius Black was innocent and Dumbles as Chief Warlock had the power to clear my godfather’s name, but he _didn’t_. Why not? _The book says_ it was because if Sirius had gotten his name cleared, I could have lived with a man who cared for me, instead of living with the Dursleys. Last year, Dumbles forced me to participate in the Tri-Wizard Tournament when he _knew_ I hadn’t entered my name; then a year ago, when I was blaming myself for Cedric Diggory being killed, Dumbles told Ron and Hermione not to write to me and not to answer my letters. Why? _According to the book_ , when I face Voldy, Dumbles wants me feeling worthless and alone.”

Daphne said to Hermione, “Last summer, you knew _your friend_ was feeling terribly, yet on Dumbledore’s orders, you _left him alone?_ ” Daphne sneered, “If the headmaster told you to jump off the Astronomy Tower, I bet you’d do it. Harry _needed_ you!”

Hermione felt shame.

Harry said, “Daphne, I can’t complain about Hermione being too trusting, because there have been several times in the past five years when Hermione was the _only_ person in the school who trusted _me_.”

Harry paused in his speaking whilst Hermione rushed forward and hugged him.

Harry said, “Anyway, when I face Voldy, _the book says_ Dumbles wants me not roused enough to fight for anyone, even myself. But I refuse to follow Dumbledore’s supposed plan—when I battle Voldy to the death, I will fight for myself, I will fight for Hermione—and Daphne, based on what I read in those letters last night, I will fight for _you_.”

Hermione grumbled, “It sounds like you two are keeping secrets from me.”

Harry said, “Not deliberately. I have to return to Privet Drive now, but I suggest you two find someplace private and _talk_.”

Then Harry brightened. “Oh, I forgot to mention: The goblin Healers found a binding on my magical core; for another hundred galleons, I had the binding removed. It’s possible that it was my parents who put the binding on me; I don’t want to accuse Dumbles without proof.”

Hermione frowned.

****

Axesharpener took the magical teens back to the surface, then Harry, Hermione and Daphne walked out of Gringotts. On the front steps of Gringotts, Harry called for Dobby.

Harry introduced Daphne and Dobby (which made Daphne raise her eyebrows). Then Harry said to Dobby, “Here’s the plan: You take me back to my relatives’ house, then you come back here and make yourself available to Hermione for the rest of today. If Hermione wants you to take both her and Daphne someplace, this is okay with me.”

Dobby agreed excitedly, then the elf held his hand up so Harry could take it. But instead of taking Dobby’s hand, Harry squared his shoulders and looked at Hermione—

“Relax, relax, Gryffindors charge ahead, I can do this. No, maybe I _can’t_ do this, everyone is staring at me, and Daphne is looking at me like I’m barking mad— _enough!_ Gryffindor courage, Gryffindor courage! Hermione, I like you. No, change it, I _love_ you—but you never marrying me but marrying Ron instead, just the _thought_ of those things happening one day is like a knife through my heart! Anyway, I love you, which I want you to know.”

Before Hermione could speak, Harry seized Dobby’s hand. “Dobby, _now!_ ”

Harry and Dobby _pop_ ped away, leaving surprised Daphne and astounded Hermione standing on the steps of Gringotts.


	4. Hermione Replies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In canon, Lucius Malfoy is arrested right after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries on 18th June 1996, and is imprisoned in Azkaban till July 1997, when Voldemort breaks out the Death Eaters. But I needed a character who plausibly could be at the reading of Sirius Black’s will and who also would be Dumbledore’s enemy in the Wizengamot. So my AU story contains a slightly AU Lucius Malfoy, who bribed his way out of going to prison.

**Seconds later  
** **At Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey**

Dobby delivered Harry to his bedroom at his relatives’ house. Harry thanked Dobby for his help, which resulted in Dobby hugging Harry. Then Harry sent Dobby out again, to act as Hermione’s chauffeur for the day.

Harry walked downstairs and made breakfast. All three Dursleys were downstairs, but none of them demanded to know where Harry had been for the last hour.

After Harry washed the dishes, he walked outside to begin weeding the back garden. He knew that back there was assigned an Order of the Phoenix person, invisible, whose supposed job was to protect Harry from Death Eaters (and whose true job was to prevent Harry from escaping).

Harry did not expect to _see_ anyone in the back garden, and indeed he did not. But Harry _heard_ snoring. When Harry walked close to the invisible snorer, he _smelled_ firewhisky (and awful-stinking tobacco).

By feel, Harry found the bottle of liquor, and dumped out every drop of firewhisky—on the head of the snorer.

The snorer quit snoring, and turned visible. “Oi, what did you do _that_ for?” Mundungus Fletcher demanded.

Harry wasn’t having it. “If I were a Death Eater, you’d be _dead_ , Fletcher. Do your bloody job or get lost.”

“You going to tell Dumbledore?”

“You help me pull weeds, you can buy my silence.”

“I’m a wizard, I don’t do Muggle work!”

“Guess I talk to Dumbledore then.”

“Fine, I’ll do it, I’ll pull weeds.”

Fletcher was not as efficient at weed-pulling as Harry was. But whilst Fletcher’s work was suspiciously slow, he never stopped pulling weeds. And every weed that Fletcher pulled was a weed that Harry did not need to pull!

If Fletcher ever had noticed that Harry had been gone for an hour, earlier in the morning, he never mentioned it.

When the weeding was completed to Harry’s satisfaction, he went back into the house and washed up. Then he walked back into his bedroom.

Hermione, had she been there, would have urged Harry to do some of his summer-break homework. Instead, Harry reread elderly Harry’s 73-page letter, over and over.

****

**An hour later (mid-morning Saturday)  
** **At the kitchen table of the Granger house**

Dr Daniel Granger and Dr Emma Granger were at work fixing teeth, and would not be home till around 2:30 p.m.

Which meant that their house was empty, except for Hermione, Crookshanks—and Daphne Greengrass.

Hermione had skipped breakfast to meet with Harry, so upon her return to the house, had pulled a box of cornflakes from atop the refrigerator. Hermione had offered a bowl of cornflakes to Daphne, and had been surprised when the Pureblood girl had confessed she had never eaten them before.

Now the two girls were finishing their cornflakes; but mostly they were discussing the parchment letter that house-elf Bluegrass had fetched for Daphne. The pleats-folded letter lay on the kitchen table, within reach of both girls.

Daphne tapped the letter and asked, “Do you believe this letter is from the future?”

Hermione sighed. “Yes, though I can’t guess how elderly Harry got around the limits on changing the past. It’s plausible that I would marry Ron—”

“ _Ugh._ ”

“—but if Ron cheated on a driving test, this would be the end for us. He’d be putting Muggle drivers in danger of death—I couldn’t overlook that.”

“Hermione, here’s what I don’t understand: How could you possibly marry _Ron Weasley?_ Even over at the Slytherin table, we see that you’re in love with Harry.”

“I am, I’m _deeply_ in love with Harry, but until an hour ago, I believed that _Harry_ wasn’t in love with _me!_ I thought that he thought of me as a bushy-haired, know-it-all _sister_.”

“And what do you think about your new future? It’s you, not Ginny Weasley, who’ll marry Harry, but you’ll always share him with _me_.”

“Honestly, what do I think? I don’t know. Would you be offended if I told you that part of me wants to scream ‘Stay away from him, Slytherin bitch’? Daphne, you’re gorgeous—I’d always feel like I was Harry’s number-two wife.”

Daphne stared at the so-called “brightest witch of her age,” then Daphne said, “ _You_ , the number-two wife? If only. I’m ‘gorgeous,’ yes, but beauty fades, whilst brains are forever. Not only that, but Harry _loves_ you—I always would worry that Harry would see _me_ as only a well-wrapped uterus. No, if there is one of us who is forever doomed to be Harry’s number-two wife, it’s _me_ , not you.”

Hermione stood up from the kitchen table. “Rise, Number Two, and let the other ‘Number Two’ give you a hug.”

After Hermione (eventually) broke the hug, Daphne said, “We don’t hug in Slytherin.”

Hermione laughed. “This explains a lot. Just so you know, Harry never starts any hugs either, but he likes getting them.”

“Duly noted. What about kissing? How is Harry at kissing?”

Hermione replied, “Harry never has tried to kiss me. It’s the main reason I believed he wasn’t in love with me.”

Daphne grinned. “Well then, we need to loosen up ‘the boy who lived,’ don’t we? Right now, the only boy who has ever tried to kiss me is Draco Malfoy—”

“ _Eww_.”

“—and we can’t let _that_ record stand, can we?”

****

**That evening, at Greengrass Manor**

Daphne announced, “The will-reading for Sirius Black, who it seems became Lord Black without anyone noticing, was yesterday.”

“Is it an interesting story?” asked Opal Greengrass, Daphne’s mother.

Daphne nodded. “Harry Potter’s Muggle-born friend Hermione Granger was bequeathed some money. Andromeda Black Tonks and her daughter were restored to the Black family. The Heirship was _not_ given to Draco Malfoy. Both Malfoys threw tantrums when they were told this news.”

Cyrus Greengrass said, “So who _is_ the Black Heir? Please, don’t let it be Bellatrix Lestrange.”

Daphne said, “It’s not Lestrange, because the will decreed that she was ‘disowned and disinherited.’ Then who is the new Lord Black? Professor Dumbledore was there, and he put up a silencing charm whenever the goblin read Harry Potter’s name—”

“ _What?_ ” Cyrus exclaimed. “Dumbledore may not interfere with a hearing of Lord Black’s will by interested parties, even if Dumbledore _is_ Chief Warlock.”

“Anyway, Harry Potter’s part of the will was not heard, thanks to silencing charms, and nothing about the Heirship and Lordship of House Black was heard. So as of last night, the mystery continued.”

Cyrus grumbled, “And the mystery _will_ continue, till the Wizengamot gets the _full_ will read publicly.”

“Relax, Father, you don’t need to wait till Friday.” Now Daphne told a white lie: “Last night I had a _gut feeling_ that the headmaster, who is Harry Potter’s magical guardian, had not told him about the will-reading. I called Bluegrass, and told him to carry a note to Harry Potter from me, saying in essence, “Guess what you missed!” Anyway, Harry Potter went to Gringotts this morning, and he invited Granger and me to come with him.”

The elder Greengrasses looked at each other, confused. Cyrus asked, “He invited both you and Miss Granger to the will-reading, when you were not a beneficiary? Why do you think he did this?”

Daphne told another white lie: “I think he had an inkling of what the will would say. Anyway, when we three walked out of there, fifteen-year-old Harry Potter had become emancipated, and had become both Lord Potter and Lord Black.”

Daphne looked at her mother and younger sister and added, “On the steps of Gringotts, Lord Black-Potter confessed to Hermione Granger that he loved her.”

Opal said, “Well, _this_ changes things, Cyrus.”

Daphne said, “I agree. Father, I unashamedly beg you to begin negotiations with the new Lord Black about a betrothal contract. By the way, Harry suspects that Dumbledore has put an owl-redirect on his mail—”

“Dumbledore may not do _this_ , either,” Cyrus said, scowling.

“—so send all correspondence by elf-mail, not by owl.”

Cyrus peered into Daphne’s face and said, “You want this? You truly want to marry _Harry Potter?_ ”

“ _Yes_.”

“So I should drop negotiations with Linus Flint about Samuel Flint?”

“ _Yes!_ ”

Astoria had been silent through this entire discussion. Now she said, “Draco Malfoy will _go spare_ when he hears about you and Potter.”

Daphne shrugged.

****

**Meanwhile, at the Grangers’ kitchen table**

Hermione told her parents over dinner, “Remember how yesterday, the will for Sirius Black was read, but Harry wasn’t there, and Professor Dumbledore blocked everyone else from hearing when Harry’s part of the will was read?”

Dan Granger said, “I don’t know wizard customs, but this sounds alarming. Like maybe the headmaster was trying to steal Harry’s inheritance.”

Emma Granger asked Hermione, “Didn’t Mr Black leave you a lot of money?”

“He did. Ten thousand galleons, which is roughly fifty thousand pounds. Lord Black said in his will that he was quite grateful to Harry and me for saving his life during third year. Anyway, this morning, Harry sent his house-elf Dobby to me, to invite me to meet Harry at Gringotts. When I got there, I found out why Harry hadn’t attended the will-reading yesterday.”

“Go on,” Dan Granger said.

“Professor Dumbledore, who was Harry’s magical guardian, didn’t tell him about the will-reading! But last night, a girl named Daphne Greengrass told Harry about the will, so he went to Gringotts this morning. Harry told me the reason he asked me to come to Gringotts was so that everything he heard told to him, I would hear too.”

The adult Grangers exchanged long looks.

Emma Granger said, “You said Dumbledore ‘was’ Harry’s magical guardian. Who has the position now?”

“Harry doesn’t have a magical guardian anymore. Lord Black’s will declared Harry to be the heir to the Lordship of the House of Black. Heirship granted by a will apparently overrules heirship granted by the rules of primogeniture—which is good, because otherwise Bellatrix Lestrange would be Lady Black now, and that woman is _evil!_ Not to mention, she murdered her cousin Sirius, the previous Lord Black.”

“Good for Harry,” Emma Granger said. “He deserves it.”

“Anyway, Sirius Black’s will named Harry as the Black Heir, then the will emancipated Harry, which made Harry who is the Black Heir become Harry, Lord Black. Adult-ifying Harry also made him, who already was the Potter Heir, become Harry, Lord Potter. So Harry, who is not even sixteen yet, now is the Lord of two Ancient and Noble Houses—with two rings, two mansions, a handful of vault keys, and _two libraries_.”

The adult Grangers shared another long look.

Dan Granger smiled at his daughter. “It sounds like Harry is setting you up to become Mrs—”

Hermione said nervously, “Harry and I weren’t the only people at the will-reading this morning. Harry also invited Daphne Greengrass, who had told him about the will-reading he’d missed. Daphne is a Pureblood girl in our year; kids at school call her ‘the Ice Queen.’ ”

Silence.

Eventually Emma snapped, “What House is Daphne Greengrass in?”

“Slytherin.”

Dan Granger snarled, “So Harry wants to hold a _bidding war_ between you and this Slytherin Pureblood, over who gets to become Mrs Potter? I don’t approve.”

Hermione thought, _Gryffindors charge ahead_. Aloud, she said, “Harry hasn’t proposed yet, but he did tell me today that he loves me, so I’m sure I’ve got the ‘Lady Potter’ title nailed down. No, what Daphne is angling for is the ‘Lady Black’ title. In the wizarding world, Harry being the head of two Houses means he is _expected_ to have two wives.”

Again the adult Grangers were silent; but now, they also were frowning fiercely.

Hermione slapped her forehead. “Oh no, I’m so gormless! Harry told me this morning he loves me, and I haven’t said the same thing back. Knowing Harry, by now he’s convinced himself that I’d rather date Draco Malfoy. _I need to fix this!_ ”

Hermione grabbed a notepad of blank “Granger & Granger Dental” notes, found a pen, and began scribbling. As Hermione wrote, her father said, “You love this boy who wants to _also_ marry this Pureblood girl?”

Hermione dropped the pen, tore off the top sheet from the notepad, and held it out. “ _Dobby!_ ”

Dobby _pop_ ped into the kitchen, visibly startling both dentists.

Hermione said to her father, “ _Honestly_ , Dad, I already explained everything to you. Two lines means two wives.”

Hermione said to Dobby, “Please take this and give it to Harry, the _second_ he’s alone. And please _also_ give Harry a hug from me, okay?”

The house-elf was beaming. “Dobby will deliver note to wonderful Master Harry Potter, and Dobby will pass on hug from wonderful Miss Grangy to wonderful Master Harry Potter.” _Pop_ —the house-elf was gone again.

****

**An instant later, in Harry’s bedroom**

One instant, Harry was alone and _feeling_ alone; the next instant, Harry was getting his knees hugged by an energetic house-elf.

A rectangle of paper, marked “Granger & Granger Dental” in the lower-right corner, floated in front of Harry’s face. Harry reached over and took the note.

Meanwhile, Dobby was saying, “Wonderful Miss Grangy asks Dobby to give wonderful Master Harry Potter Sir a hug, and Dobby is a good elf.”

Harry distractedly thanked Dobby, as Harry read the note—

_I’ve loved you since we rode on Buckbeak together. You are special to me, Harry Potter._

_Hermione_

Harry wanted to run downstairs and to dance about the sitting room, amidst his hated relatives. Harry could face Voldemort now, _and_ Grindelwald, _and_ a dozen mountain trolls _plus_ a dozen giant spiders, all because of him knowing one fact—

_Hermione loves me back!_


	5. Lunch with the Greengrass Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon is unclear when Mundungus Fletcher stole the Locket of Slytherin from 12 Grimmauld Place, though a safe bet would be “sometime after Sirius Black went through the Veil” (on 18th June, 1996). Canon likewise is unclear when Mundungus “gifted” the Locket of Slytherin to Dolores Umbridge, as a bribe to keep himself from being arrested for peddling without a license; but Umbridge had the Locket by 5th August, 1997.

**Early Sunday (30th June, 1996)  
** **Harry’s bedroom at Number 4, Privet Drive**

Harry opened elderly Harry’s 73-page book-letter to the very end of the book. Using the _Gemino_ spell, Harry copied each rune-sequence on pages 72 and 73. Using his wand, Harry activated both rune-sequences. The first rune-sequence, which put a wall around Harry’s mind so that he was immune to _Imperio_ , _Obliviate_ and mind-reading, Harry placed under his shirt with those runes touching his skin. The other rune-sequence again gave Harry the ability to speak and to understand Parseltongue—a skill that Harry had lost when his scar had lost its horcrux. This second rune-sequence was shoved under Harry’s shirt with the runes facing out.

Harry used _Gemino_ twice more, to make two more copies of the no-mind-attacks rune-sequence. He elf-mailed each of his future wives a copy, along with a note that gave instructions how to use the rune-sequence, and a personal note—

“Would you like to come out to the ruins of Potter Manor with me today? Dobby will pick you up later this morning. Dress to get dirty.”

Both Daphne and Hermione agreed to the field trip. Hermione also was excited to be given the rune-sequence—perhaps her excitement was due to what was written in the lower-left corner of the page: “HJG 2023.”

Harry elf-mailed Hermione back: “You should feel proud of inventing this. According to elderly Harry, who wrote me from decades after 2023, nobody ever has figured out a way to beat this rune-sequence that ‘you’ invented.”

****

Harry then summoned Dobby again. Harry asked Dobby, “Can you elf-pop into the Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts Castle?”

Dobby started to cry. “Dobby is sorry, Master Harry Potter Sir, but Dobby does not know where is the Chamber of Secrets. May Dobby bash his head against the wall?”

“ _No_. Maybe someone in the Hogwarts kitchen knows. Go there and ask around, and come back here when you know how to elf-pop directly into the Chamber of Secrets.”

Dobby _pop_ ped away, and returned two minutes later. Now previously-crying Dobby was grinning. “Elves in kitchen say Brave Master Harry Potter killed nasty basilisk before it killed students and elves. Dobby is so proud to be friend of Brave Master Harry Potter Sir.”

Harry said, “Dobby, I want you to go into the Chamber of Secrets, remove a fang from the corpse of the basilisk and bring the fang, _in a box_ , back here. Be careful when you get near the fang, because its venom is _powerful_ and quick.”

Dobby hugged Harry’s knees. “Master Harry Potter Sir wants to save Dobby’s life! Dobby is so lucky to have Master Harry Potter for a friend.”

Dobby soon ended the hug, then— _pop!_ —disappeared.

****

When Dobby returned, carrying a basilisk-fang-sized box, Harry asked Dobby to transport himself, the boxed fang, Harry, and the book-letter that elderly Harry had written, all to 12 Grimmauld Place.

Walpurga Black’s portrait “greeted” Harry with rude and racist words. But elderly Harry had written about a Parseltongue silencing charm that silenced the portrait.

But the unearthly racket had brought Kreacher to investigate. Kreacher looked disdainfully at Dobby, then said to Harry, “Kreacher awaits orders from Muggle-raised, half-blood master, though Kreacher wishes not to obey.”

Harry’s first, second and third thoughts were _I want to hurt this elf_ —whose betrayal, after all, was directly responsible for getting Sirius killed. But elderly Harry had explained the importance of cultivating Kreacher as an almost-friend. So Harry made himself speak calmly—

“Kreacher, I’m told that Regulus Black, before he died, gave you the Locket of Salazar Slytherin, which has a horcrux in it.”

Kreacher now was staring at Harry.

Harry continued, “You have been unable to destroy the horcrux, correct? I wish to try.”

Harry had seen Kreacher sneer and Harry had seen Kreacher angry, but Harry never had seen Kreacher cry: “Kreacher has not obeyed Master Regulus’s last order. Kreacher is a bad elf!”

Then Harry commanded, “Bring the Locket here, Kreacher.”

Now Kreacher’s face glowed with _hope_. “I obey, Master Harry.” _Pop_.

Alas, when Kreacher reappeared a minute later, he looked sad and hopeless. “Master Harry, the Locket is not where I left it. The Locket is nowhere in the townhouse.”

Elderly Harry had warned young Harry about this very problem. Now Harry said, “Sirius had some goblin-worked, silver goblets with the Black family crest on them. Are the goblets missing too?”

“Kreacher will find out, Master Harry.” _Pop_.

Seconds later, Kreacher _pop_ ped back in front of Harry; now the elf looked furious. “Yes, the goblets also are missing.”

“Since the goblets have the family crest on them, can you track them?”

Kreacher’s smile was evil. “ _Easily_ , Master Harry. Even if the stinky, half-blood thief rubs the crests off.”

Harry ordered, “Go track down the goblets. Once you’ve found them, find out if the Locket is in the same place. Do not remove the stolen items yet, or let the thief suspect that he’s been caught. Then report back to me. If Dung is the thief, I have Weasley-twins-like plans for him. _Go_.”

It took less than five minutes before Kreacher returned. “Master Harry, the thieving, stinky, half-blood Mundungus Fletcher has the goblin-made goblets, the Locket of Salazar Slytherin and an old wooden box that is filled with old-style sickles.”

Harry grinned. “Here’s what you do. First you stun Dung, without him seeing you first. Then you take back the Locket, the goblets, the box full of sickles and anything else that you _know_ belongs to the Black family. You also remove from Dung’s house, anything that you’re _not sure_ whether it belongs to the Black family or to Dung. You also remove every scrap of clothing that Dung owns, _including all the clothing he’s wearing_. And _then_...”

Harry spoke a few words more. When Kreacher _pop_ ped away, he, Harry and Dobby all were grinning vindictively.

Less than a minute later, Kreacher returned, along with two piles. One pile was of expensive items; the Locket was atop the pile. The other pile was of stinky men’s clothing. Harry yanked his wand out of his wand-holder, and vanished Dung’s clothing as fast as he could achieve the deed.

****

Harry picked up the basilisk fang; then, using Parseltongue, opened the Locket of Slytherin. The wraith came out of the open Locket and moved towards Harry, intending to possess him. With the help of Dobby and Kreacher, the Voldemort-wraith was blocked from doing this, whilst Harry stabbed the horcrux with the venomous point of the fang.

Now the wraith’s goal shifted, trying to achieve by words and temptation what the wraith could not achieve by force. But Harry spoke a Parseltongue silencing charm to briefly silence the wraith, then he went back to stabbing the horcrux with the fang. Less than a half-minute after Harry opened the Locket, the Locket’s horcrux was destroyed.

Kreacher looked at Harry with a mixture of amazement and hero-worship; the old house-elf wept. Harry tried to shift the credit for destroying the Locket’s horcrux to Kreacher himself, and to Dobby.

****

After the excitement of destroying the Locket’s horcrux, Harry took up the comparatively boring job of adding and deleting names in the Ward Ledger.

The Grimmauld Place townhouse had two modes of defence. The first and main defence was the Fidelius charm that the place was under. Only the Tonks family, the Weasleys, Hermione, Harry himself and members of the Order of the Phoenix (including Snape, Dumbledore and Mundungus Fletcher) had been given the Secret to the townhouse’s location. The other protection for the townhouse was its Ward Ledger, a listing by name of people allowed in. Only the Head of House could touch the Ward Ledger; for everyone else, touching the book meant an almost-instant, screaming death.

The Ward Ledger, it turned out, came with its own instruction book—but since this book was filled with _thou_ s, _thee_ s and _shalt_ s, the book wasn’t much help. The instructions on page 71 of elderly Harry’s book-letter were much more useful.

Harry discovered that in the Ward Ledger, two new pages had been added at the end, under “Lord Black-Potter: Harry James Potter.” Of this newest part of the Ward Ledger, the first section was “Family”; listed here were the three Malfoys, the three Tonkses and Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband. Harry took delight in scratching out the names of all his “family” except for the Tonkses.

Only allowed members of “Family” (meaning only the Tonkses, at present) could Apparate or Portkey into the townhouse; everyone else had to enter the house by using the floo fireplace. Eventually, Harry planned to add the true name of “Lady Black” and various Black children to the “Family” listing.

The next section in the Ward Ledger was “Friends.” Under here were copied all of Sirius Black’s “Friends.” To wit—

“Everyone else.”

 _That lazybones!_ Harry thought.

With the help of a memory-boost spell from Dobby, Harry wrote down all the names that Sirius would have written down if he had not been lazy. (Just listing all the Weasleys almost gave writer’s cramp to Harry.)

When this task was done, Harry promptly added the name of Daphne Greengrass to “Friends,” and scratched out the names of Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape and Mundungus Fletcher.

The scratch-outs were because Harry _refused to allow_ what he had seen happen to Sirius, of being disrespected as an easily-ignored tenant in his own house! Harry considered also scratching out the name of Molly Weasley, but decided to allow her name to stay (for now).

The final section of the Ward Ledger was “One-Off Visitors.” This section was blank. If Harry ever wrote a name here, thus allowing someone who was neither family or friend to visit Grimmauld Place, the name would be erased from the Ward Ledger when the visitor departed. But the townhouse being under a Fidelius charm made this section of the Ward Ledger unnecessary.

****

Harry said goodbye to Kreacher then, with a parting order of “Remove Walpurga’s loud painting. I don’t care where you put it.”

Then Harry had Dobby elf-move him to Potter Manor, “just outside the ward line.” Then Harry sent Dobby off to collect Daphne and Hermione. Dobby delivered Daphne first, Hermione second.

As soon as Hermione was within ten feet of Harry, she rushed up to him, grabbed his shirt with both hands and snogged him mightily.

Trying to figure out why, Harry recalled that recently he had told Hermione he loved her. Perhaps the two events were related?

 _Pop-p-p-pop_.

“ _Ahem_ ,” said Daphne, sounding amused. “Lord Black-Potter, you have company.”

Harry broke the kiss. He discovered that standing a few feet away, looking delighted, were four house-elves who all were wearing House Potter livery instead of tea towels. The Head Elf, so Harry quickly was informed, was an older elf named Greyclay.

Greyclay’s first question to Harry was “Are you Harry James Potter, Lord Black-Potter?”

“I am.” These two words of Harry’s made Greyclay smile, and made the three younger elves look relieved.

Daphne murmured to Harry, “Introduce me before Hermione.”

Harry introduced Daphne as “Daphne Greengrass, my year-mate at Hogwarts, and probably the future Lady Black.”

Daphne repeated, with one eyebrow raised, “ _Probably_ the future Lady Black?”

Harry blushed. “Ease up, Daphne. I don’t want to sound presumptive—after all, you and I haven’t even dated.”

“True. Lord Black-Potter, you have two months to fix _that_ problem, do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Harry then introduced Hermione to the elves, commenting that she was “the future Lady Potter.”

“ _Now_ you’ve done it,” murmured Daphne.

“What’s your favourite food?” one elf asked Hermione.

“What’s your favourite colour?” another elf asked Hermione.

“How do you like your bathwater scented?” asked a third elf.

Harry murmured to Daphne, “Why do they ask _her_ these questions when they haven’t asked _me_ all that? After all, she’s not even officially a Potter yet.”

Daphne murmured back, “You’re merely the wizard who owns the stone and the wood of the _house_. Hermione will be in charge of the _home_ —not to mention, she’ll be the Potter whom your elves deal-with most.”

The three teens and the five elves walked around the manor house. The news was not good. Part of the roof was caved in. Where two walls of the manor house were supposed to meet, there was a hole running from the ground to the caved-in roof; inside and outside the corner-hole was a pile of burnt stones. Also, the wards were _gone_. The result was that someone inside the manor house was unprotected even from a rabid squirrel.

Inside the manor house, some rooms had water and snow damage. Happily for Hermione, the library was unharmed.

In the library, the teens discovered a decorative wooden lectern, on which lay an open book. “Ooh, what is _that?_ ” Hermione asked. She took off towards the displayed book at a fast walk.

Daphne took off at a full run. She ran up behind Hermione, threw her arms around Hermione’s waist, and forcibly dragged Hermione away before Hermione reached the book.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” both girls yelled at the same time.

Harry had _no_ idea what was happening now.

Daphne angrily demanded of Hermione, “Are you _daft?_ Are you _suicidal?_ That book has to be the Potter family grimoire. I’m sure it’s booby-trapped at least four different ways, to kill anyone who touches it if she isn’t a member of the Potter family. Which you _aren’t_ , not yet.”

“I didn’t know,” Hermione said quietly.

Bluegrass, the Greengrass-family head elf, arrived then, with a written invitation for Harry and Hermione to enjoy an informal lunch with the Greengrass family; “Wear what you’re wearing now.” The two Muggle-raised teens nervously agreed to the lunch date with a Pureblood family.

It was a good thing that the teens had agreed to eat at Greengrass Manor, because it turned out that Potter Manor had no human-edible food in it.

Then Greyclay gave Harry good news: The four Potter elves were entirely able to repair the damage to the manor house; Harry did not need to hire building contractors. All that the house-elves needed was for Harry to give to Greyclay the Potter family vault’s key, and for Harry to give instructions how he wanted the manor house to look at the end. (The instructions were simple: “Make everything exactly like how it was before. Same furniture in the rooms, same colour of paint on the walls.”)

And the broken wards? Alas, the elves could not work ward-building; Harry would need to contract with the goblins.

****

**Meanwhile, in the hovel of Mundungus Fletcher**

Dung was a miserable man.

Everything that he had stolen from 12 Grimmauld Place had been stolen back—fine, this was the risk that Dung took when he stole from wizards. But the counter-thieves also had stolen all of Dung’s clothes—not his food, not his money, not his firewhisky or his bargain-price tobacco, they had stolen his _clothes_.

Which doesn’t sound too bad—except what clothing shop will let you through the door when you’re _naked?_ None of them. So Dung was forced to buy replacement clothing from his neighbours.

Which meant buying clothes that did not fit, all whilst Dung was being laughed at. And since Dung’s neighbours felt the same “kindness” towards humanity as what Dung himself felt, his neighbours drove hard bargains—half the galleons that Dung had this morning, now were gone.

But even this was not as bad as what happened when Dung put on his replacement clothes: everything that he wore, itched. _Everything_. Even when he experimentally wrapped a scarf around his neck—which was not something an Englishman usually did in June—the scarf made his _neck_ itch.

Right now, in his hovel with the curtains shut, Dung had stripped off all of his “new” (and _expensive_ ) clothes and was naked again. Because otherwise, he _itched_ too much to think straight!

****

**Lunchtime, in Greengrass Manor**

Cyrus Greengrass’s first clue that “the boy who lived” was not like how the _Daily Prophet_ portrayed him, was when the youth stepped out of the Greengrass floo fireplace. Rather, the boy _spun_ out of the fireplace and fell down—a childish error that both Daphne and Astoria had outgrown during their primary-school years. The Muggle-born girl, Miss Granger, did not fall, but her exit from the fireplace was not quite graceful either.

Daphne’s exit from the green flames was regal, Cyrus was pleased to note.

Daphne said, with no haughtiness, “Lord Black-Potter, this is my father, Lord Cyrus Greengrass of the House of Greengrass, and my mother, Opal Bulstrode Greengrass.”

Cyrus put his hand out, palm turned sideways, and Harry shook it. The awkwardness came when Opal extended her hand, palm down; Harry took her hand, rotated it, and shook it.

“ _Harry!_ ” Daphne stage-whispered. “Don’t shake Mother’s hand, kiss her knuckles.” The boy, now blushing rose-red, did so.

Then Daphne said, “Lord Black-Potter, you recall this is my younger sister Astoria. In September, she will begin her fourth year at Hogwarts, sorted into Slytherin.”

Harry approached Astoria, who was smirking, but did not do anything more till Astoria, after a pause, put her hand out (palm down). Harry kissed Astoria’s knuckles.

Then Harry looked at Daphne. “Pureblood Advisor, what are the rules with girls and introductions?”

Daphne’s chin came up, and Cyrus was amused to note that Daphne now spoke like Professor McGonagall (complete with Scottish accent): “Lord Black-Potter, when the girl is too young to start at Hogwarts, you shake her hand, the same as with a boy of any age, or with a man. When the girl is eleven or older, you kiss her knuckles, but _do not slobber_ ; it is unseemly.”

“Thank you, Pureblood Advisor,” Harry said, smiling.

Cyrus, for his part, was amazed that his elder daughter had a sense of humour and a sense of tact. Who knew?

Daphne then said, “Father, Mother, Astoria, this is Harry Black-Potter, Lord of House Potter and Lord of House Black. In September, he will begin his sixth year at Hogwarts, sorted into Gryffindor. He has battled You-Know-Who several times, beginning at age fifteen months, when he somehow survived You-Know-Who’s Killing Curse.”

Daphne then said, much more quietly, “Harry, since you have already shaken hands or kissed hands with these people, now you bow.”

Even as Harry Potter was executing a passable bow, he was saying, “Daphne, a correction: You know his name. If you won’t call him ‘Voldemort,’ call him by his real name: Tom Marvolo Riddle. And don’t call him ‘Lord Voldemort’ _ever_ —he’s a bastard half-blood who never wears a Lordship ring.”

Silence. Cyrus, for his part, felt _shock_ that this fifteen-year-old boy would denounce Voldemort so plainly.

Daphne murmured, “Introduce Hermione.”

Harry said, “Lord Greengrass, Lady Greengrass, Astoria, this is my friend, Miss Hermione Granger. She is a first-born witch who will begin her sixth year at Hogwarts whilst sorted into Gryffindor. Other Hogwarts students have titled her ‘The Brightest Witch of her Age.’ We are not yet officially betrothed, but it is my firm intention that one day, Hermione will be Lady Potter.”

The Muggle-born Miss Granger smiled, hearing this. Cyrus was surprised to see Daphne smile too—her real smile, not her in-public smile.

Daphne needed to coach Miss Granger into curtsying to Opal but shaking hands with Astoria. Miss Granger looked surprised when Cyrus bent to kiss her knuckles.

Lunch, when finally everyone was seated at the dining table, began normally—except that Miss Granger was startlingly polite to the house-elves who served the meal.

****

During lunch, Cyrus still was trying to get a feel for what kind of person was Harry Potter. Whilst Cyrus did not know Sirius Black except by reputation, Black not only had named this boy in his will as the Black Heir, but then had emancipated the lad! _Why?_ Cyrus wondered.

Cyrus got some clue about the boy when Miss Granger casually mentioned, “Harry, Ron and I became friends during the night of the troll attack.”

Cyrus said, “I heard about that—somehow a troll got into the castle during Daphne’s first year.”

Daphne said scornfully, “A _mountain_ troll, twelve feet tall. It was loose in the dungeons. And what did _Dumbledore_ say? ‘Prefects, take your students to your common rooms.’ Which in the case of Slytherin, _was in the dungeons!_ Idiot!”

Cyrus, still confused, asked Harry, “But what does the troll have to do with your friendship?”

Daphne gasped. “Hold on, supposedly a girl was almost killed in a lavatory by the troll, but a student, not a professor, killed the troll. _That was you two?_ ”

Harry Potter blushed. “Plus Ron Weasley. Ron dropped the troll’s own club on his head, using _wingardium leviosa_. Ron knocked out the troll. All I did was shove my wand up the troll’s nose. Which killed the troll only when his face hit the floor. It’s not as big a valiant deed as it sounds.”

Miss Granger said, “What Harry doesn’t tell you is that he _climbed up the back of a twelve-foot troll_ to get to the place where he could shove his wand up the troll’s nose.”

Hearing this, all four Greengrasses were speechless.

****

Later on, Cyrus said to Harry Potter, “I don’t understand how it is that you keep fighting You-Know-Who. You don’t strike me as a boy who starts fights—”

“Draco Malfoy,” Daphne murmured.

“—so how do you wind up fighting You-Know-Who again and again?”

Harry Potter answered, “Before I was born, Sybill Trelawney made a prophecy. It says that only I, or Neville Longbottom, can kill Voldemort—unless he kills us first.”

All the Greengrasses gasped.

Cyrus stared down his elder daughter. “Did you know about this? If you marry Lord Black, you could become a _young_ widow!”

Daphne said, “I’m still trying to accept the idea of _Neville Longbottom_ defeating You-Know-Who.”

Opal snapped, “Daphne Eudora, this is no time for jokes.”

Harry Potter said, “Lord and Lady Greengrass, I promise you that Daphne will not become a young widow. Up till now, Voldemort has come looking for me—but before I marry Hermione or Daphne, even before I sit my N.E.W.T.s, _I_ will seek out _Tom Riddle_ , and the prophecy will be fulfilled that day.”

Cyrus shook his head. “Young man, I never have met anyone like you. But now I understand why Sirius Black appointed you the Lord of House Black.”

****

Later on, Miss Granger said, “I confess that I don’t know much about the Greengrass family. _A History of Magic_ doesn’t say much about you.”

Cyrus said, “The Greengrasses are traders, and have been for centuries. We buy from and sell to the forest elves, the goblins and the gnomes. We trade with magical Europe and magical Asia. Under license from the Ministry of Magic, we buy a few Muggle items and enchant them.”

Astoria said, “The family’s unofficial slogan is ‘We sell to knights and we sell to knaves.’ ”

Cyrus nodded. “True. We sell food to the Weasleys and the Bones, both of whom are Light families, and we sell food to the Malfoys.”

“Who are Dark, Dark, Dark,” Daphne commented.

Cyrus said, “In the Wizengamot, the Greengrasses continue our neutrality. We are considered part of the Grey faction.”

Harry Potter looked at Cyrus with a raised eyebrow. “You are neutral, yet you are willing to marry your daughter into the Potter family, which is considered Light.”

“I would refuse to marry off Daphne to James Potter, and not only because of the age difference and him being dead. Fortunately, you aren’t anything like James Potter.”

Harry laughed. “Tell Snape that!”

****

Still later, Cyrus said to Harry Potter and to Daphne, “I’m told you’ve never even gone to Hogsmeade Village together. Which, considering the enmity between Slytherin and Gryffindor, I believe. Yet you want to marry. _Why?_ ”

“Because they’ll be happy together” was the reply. But it was Miss Granger who said this, not either of the other two.

Daphne nodded. “He and I will be happy together, yes.”

“True,” Harry Potter agreed. “It’ll work out.”

Cyrus got a strange feeling then. All of his instincts told him that Harry Potter was not at all the type to use the Imperius curse. Yet ordinarily, being Imperiused would be the only explanation for Daphne and Miss Granger believing as they did, despite no facts to back up those beliefs. Yet Cyrus knew that whilst being Imperiused could insert a belief, the curse could not cause _confidence_ in that belief. Yet somehow all three teens were _confident_ that if Daphne married Harry Potter, the two of them would be happy.

“But how do you _know_ you two will be happy?” Astoria asked. “How can you be _sure?_ ”

The three teens exchanged looks, and they all looked _uncomfortable_. Harry Potter said, “We just know. That’s all we can tell you.”

Cyrus realised, _Those three act like good people forced to keep a secret from someone they don’t want to keep a secret from_.

Which raised the question in Cyrus’s mind: _Daphne and the other two kids, what secret are they keeping?_


	6. Angry Muggle Parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The horror-comedy-musical _Little Shop of Horrors_ has a scene featuring a comically sadistic dentist (who is played by Steve Martin). It would be deeply disturbing for a real dentist to tell you that _LSOH_ was his favourite movie.

**Sunday afternoon**

After lunch with the Greengrasses, Harry asked Dobby to take Hermione home. Then Harry asked Dobby to take him back to Gringotts, where Harry intended to contract for new wards to cover Potter Manor.

At Gringotts, Harry contracted for the same kind of wards that 12 Grimmauld Place had: Ward the place heavily, then add a Fidelius Charm on top of everything else. However, Potter Manor, unlike Grimmauld Place, would _not_ have Albus Dumbledore as its Fidelius Charm’s Secret Keeper!

But then Harry gave Ragnok a strange job requirement: They were not to take the final steps of warding Potter Manor until 13th July. (Elderly Harry had told young Harry to make _special_ plans for 12th July, when Dumbledore likely would pay Harry a visit.)

****

**But speaking in Gringotts of Dumbledore...**

Harry said to Ragnok, “The Black ancestral home at 12 Grimmauld Place is under a Fidelius charm, with Dumbledore as the Secret Keeper. The trouble is that I have received,” Harry paused, “a _divination_ that Dumbledore will die on 30th June of next year. I’m told that when the Secret Keeper dies, everyone who has been told the Secret of the property’s location, himself becomes a Secret Keeper?”

Ragnok replied, “Correct.”

“One of the people who knows the Secret is Severus Snape, Dumbledore’s supposed spy on Voldemort. Once Dumbledore dies, Snape knowing the Secret is _dangerous_. How do I prevent fifty Death Eaters from Apparating into Grimmauld Place before Dumbledore’s body is even cold, with only Grimmauld Place’s secondary wards keeping the invaders out?”

Ragnok said, “Relax, Lord Black-Potter, you’re not the first property-owner worried about a sickly or dead Secret Keeper. Here’s what Gringotts can do for you...”

On top of the existing Fidelius Charm on 12 Grimmauld Place, now the goblins would place a Parseltongue Notice-Me-Not Charm. This would work only as a temporary measure, once Dumbledore died, but the Parseltongue Charm would not be needed for long. Once the goblins were told that Dumbledore had died, they would tear down the old Fidelius Charm; with Harry’s help, the goblins promptly would put up a new Fidelius Charm with Harry as Secret Keeper. At the moment the new Fidelius Charm took hold, everyone who knew the old Secret would forget it, except for Harry; and pieces of parchment with the old Secret written on them would be turned unreadable. For someone to know the new Secret (even though it would be word-for-word, letter-for-letter the same as the old Secret), Harry would need to visit this person and would need to tell him or her the new Secret face-to-face.

When Ragnok finished explaining, Harry said, “So there is no reason to abandon Grimmauld Place next year as a safe haven, just because Snape is a traitorous git.”

Ragnok nodded. “No reason at all.”

****

**A minute later**

Harry was standing on the front steps of Gringotts; he called for Dobby to come pick him up. But when Dobby _pop_ -appeared, he brought a note from Hermione.

_Harry,_

_Mum and Dad are off work today, and they offered to let me hang out at home with my new friends. Daphne is already here._

_Don’t remind Daphne that she was bitten by the etiquette-bear in reverse: She put her hand out, palm down, expecting Dad to kiss her knuckles, but he looked at her oddly and shook her hand instead._

_Dad asked me to tell you that he has a tape of “Little Shop of Horrors” that you can watch with us if you’ve never seen it. He says it’s his favourite movie._

_Hermione_

Spending time with the Granger family was phrased as an offer, and perhaps to Hermione it _was_ an offer. But Harry recognised the note for what it was: a court summons.

****

 **A half-hour later**  
**In the Grangers’ kitchen**

Harry glared at Dan Granger. “What you don’t realise, _sir_ , is that I would take crap for my decision, no matter _which_ way I handled this!”

Dan snapped, “How gormless do you think I am? How could you be _criticised_ for taking my precious daughter as your _one and only_ wife, like _normal_ men do?”

Harry almost said _Talking like Vernon Dursley won’t win your argument against me, Granger_ , but decided against it. Instead, Harry said, “Because wizarding-world Purebloods are inbred—”

“Rubbish!” said Daphne.

“—and they don’t even _realise_ they have a problem. Or if they do realise it, they think they can wave a wand or brew a potion and make the problem go away. But the Purebloods _do_ have a problem, and it’s only getting worse.”

Daphne’s blue eyes now were gunmetal-blue. “And what ‘problem’ do we Purebloods have, Potter?”

“Inbreeding, and a lack of _genetic diversity_.” Daphne’s eyebrows wrinkled; clearly she did not know the term. Harry continued, “In Muggle royals, inbreeding led to blood problems and the ‘Habsburg lip.’ In Pureblood wizards and witches, inbreeding—too few people being in someone’s ancestry—leads to _squibs_ being born.”

Daphne said, “I don’t believe you. My family are Purebloods, and neither Astoria and I are squibs.”

“But maybe one of your grandparents has a brother or sister whom nobody talks about, _hm?_ ”

Daphne briefly looked panicked, as if Harry were about to reveal a shameful secret.

Dan Granger demanded, “What does any of this have to do with you supposedly getting criticised for _not_ committing bigamy?”

Hermione replied, “Dad, Daphne, I researched the Potter family’s genealogy and I found out two amazing facts. First, Potters are real trendsetters when it comes to marrying Muggle-borns. Lily Evans wasn’t the first Muggle-born to marry a Potter, by any stretch of the imagination, and I won’t be special either. Second, the House of Potter _has never had a squib in it_ —no other Pureblood house can claim this.”

Daphne looked stunned.

Harry took over the narrative: “But if all future Potters _and_ all future Blacks have Hermione and I as their ancestors, I won’t have _increased_ genetic diversity, I’ll have _decreased_ it. And when future Purebloods realise they brought the ‘squib’ problem on themselves, they’ll blame _me_ for doing what was easy instead of what was right.”

Emma Granger commented, “My, what a long-winded explanation this was. At my age, I’ve learnt that when a _man_ gives me a long-winded explanation, he’s usually arguing why I should either drop my knickers or hand him pound notes.”

Hermione said, “ _Mum!_ Harry isn’t like that.”

Dan said, “ _Really_ , Hermione?” With exaggerated piety, Dan said, “I am the Lord of two Pureblood Houses, so my grim duty to the Wizarding World _requires_ I take two wives. I must do my _duty_ , no matter how _pleasureless_ I find this toil.”

Emma said to Harry, “Have you considered that if you marry _her_ ”—Emma chin-pointed at Daphne—“you can never again show your face in the _regular_ world? Come to the attention of the police for _anything_ , even driving with a burnt-out brake light, and you’ll be arrested for _bigamy_.”

Daphne said, “Excuse me, but I thought _my_ world was the ‘regular’ world. As for the bigamy charge, Harry would present to the Muggle Aurors a paper simply stating, ‘This man is allowed this bigamous marriage by royal dispensation.’ _What_ , you people think this problem never has come up before?”

Dan said, “Here’s what I know: _You_ , Harry Potter, are a trouble-magnet, and you are the enemy of an evil man with evil followers, who all hate people like Hermione. It would be _safer_ for Hermione if she had nothing to do with you. You supposedly need two wives? Marry another Pureblood, _not_ Hermione.”

Hermione said, “ _Dad_ , you’re _horrid!_ ”

Daphne sneered, “It is obvious, sir, that _you_ would never be Sorted into Gryffindor. As for making Hermione ‘safe,’ you _can’t_. If Hermione walked up to Harry in the Great Hall, slapped his face and yelled, ‘I hate you and I never want to see you again,’ I can think of three Death Eater wannabees at Hogwarts who _still_ would want to hurt your daughter. Hermione is safer _near_ Harry than she is when she’s far away from him.”

Hermione said, “ _Good_.” She glared at her father. “Because I don’t _want_ to slap Harry’s face and to tell him that I don’t want to see him again.”

Harry thought, _Things could be worse. Hermione’s parents could be coming at me with dentist’s drills_.

****

**Meanwhile, in Greengrass Manor**

Cyrus Greengrass was puzzling over the mysterious behaviour of Daphne, Harry and Hermione just hours ago.

• On Friday, Daphne had been totally uninterested in Harry Potter as a husband; but now Harry was Daphne’s only choice; and what’s more, Daphne was _convinced_ that she and Harry would make a happy marriage together.

• Harry Potter and Miss Hermione Granger likewise were _convinced_ that Daphne the Slytherin Pureblood, and Harry the Muggle-raised half-blood, would make a happy marriage.

• All three teenagers acted like they were unwillingly keeping a secret.

After several minutes of Cyrus trying to crack the mystery, he recalled a throwaway remark of Daphne’s from yesterday evening: “By the way, Harry suspects that Dumbledore has put an owl-redirect on his mail, so send all correspondence by elf-mail, not by owl.”

Cyrus wondered, _Has Daphne been secretly messaging Harry? If she was, it would be by elf, not by owl_.

Cyrus summoned Bluegrass and asked him, “Have you been carrying messages between Daphne and Harry Potter lately? Or has Harry Potter’s elf been carrying messages between him and Daphne?”

What Cyrus _expected_ Bluegrass to say was to mention the invitation today, delivered by Harry Potter’s elf, for Daphne to spend hours casually visiting with Miss Granger’s Muggle family. But how Bluegrass _actually_ answered was this—

“Master Cyrus, Friday evening, Mistress Daphne asked Bluegrass to deliver to Harry Potter a short parchment that was folded once, a long parchment that was pleats-folded, and a big Muggle envelope that had a book inside it.”

Cyrus repeated, “ _Friday evening_ , you said?” He thought, _This was right around the time Daphne told me that there was no boy whom she was interested in marrying_. Then Cyrus asked Bluegrass, “Did you try to read what you were delivering? Or did you happen to see any of the parchments’ words?”

Bluegrass replied stiffly, “Master Cyrus, Bluegrass would never open and read anything that Mistress Daphne intended as private.”

Cyrus apologised to his offended Head Elf.

Mollified, Bluegrass continued, “The only other things that Bluegrass can tell you is that the long parchment was addressed to Mistress Daphne and was in her handwriting; and the sealed envelope was both addressed to Harry Potter and was sent by Harry Potter, written with a handwriting that Bluegrass has never seen before. The long parchment had the smell of a Copy Document spell on it; but the Muggle envelope had a strange spell-smell, unlike any that Bluegrass has ever before encountered.”

Cyrus apologised to Bluegrass again—Miss Granger’s startling politeness to house-elves had rubbed off on the Greengrass lord—then Cyrus dismissed his house-elf. Cyrus stood there and thought some more—

_More mysteries to consider. Why would Daphne write a long letter to herself—then send a copy of the letter to Harry Potter? Why would Harry Potter send himself a book?_

A minute later, Cyrus gasped. An explanation for everything that was mysterious about Daphne’s and Harry Potter’s behaviour had just jumped into Cyrus’s head. It was an _impossible_ explanation, most definitely, but _it fit all the facts_.

****

**A half-hour before sunset**

The visit with the Granger parents was not pleasant for Harry, but still, the time spent at Hermione’s house was ten times more enjoyable than the same amount of time spent with the Dursleys.

Dobby returned Harry back to Privet Drive before sundown—

—which was good, because sundown was when Alastor Moody took over guarding Harry. Moody’s magical eye instantly would have spotted that Harry was not in his bedroom. Harry did _not_ want Dumbledore to have any puzzles to figure out, or any surprises, before 12th July.

Once Dobby had _pop_ ped Harry back in his bedroom, Harry walked downstairs and into the back garden, again using the pretext of pulling weeds.

Tonks Disillusioned herself and said, “Wotcher, Harry!” As she approached, she tripped over a tree root.

Harry and Tonks talked for several minutes. She did not rebuke Harry for being gone for hours—but then Tonks, alone of all of Harry’s Order “prison guards,” probably would not have said anything, even had she known. Harry did not tell Tonks that now she could Apparate directly into 12 Grimmauld Place whenever she wanted to.

****

**Meanwhile, in Greengrass Manor**

Bluegrass the house-elf informed Cyrus that Harry Potter’s house-elf had _pop_ ped Daphne into her bedroom. A minute later, Cyrus was knocking on Daphne’s bedroom door. As soon as Daphne opened the door, Cyrus asked if he might step in.

Cyrus asked Daphne how her visit to the Grangers had turned out. He got an earful.

Cyrus was startled to learn that Miss Granger’s parents had not been slavishly grateful to have a Pureblood witch in their midst. Cyrus was even more startled when he was told the Grangers’ grievances, and realised that these Muggles were right (at least some of the time) to feel angry. Cyrus too was unhappy that his daughter must spend her entire life sharing her husband with another woman.

But the time soon came for Cyrus to achieve his true purpose for this visit. Looking his daughter in the eyes, he calmly asked, “May I see the long letter that you wrote to yourself, please?”

Daphne’s face went white. But she did not argue.

Daphne walked over to a wall of her bedroom, knelt down, and removed the long parchment from a box on the floor that was either Disillusioned or Fideliused. Daphne walked back over to her father.

Just before Daphne handed over the pleats-folded parchment, she said, “This was on my pillow Friday after dinner. I believe it all. I think it’s all true.”

Cyrus had read only the first line when he thought, _My “impossible” theory is true!_

A minute later, Cyrus said to Daphne, “I had a bad feeling about Samuel Flint, but I couldn’t think of a better husband for you. I apologise to the version of you who wrote this letter.”

Seconds later, Cyrus choked. “ ‘Harry Potter killed Voldemort’? She wrote this so casually!”

Soon after that, Cyrus asked, “This ‘Hemoglobin Repair Potion 46’ will actually reverse Astoria’s blood-curse? Where is the recipe?”

Daphne made a vague gesture in the direction of the invisible box by the wall.

Cyrus asked, “Hannah Abbott and Neville Longbottom, who are they to you?”

“Hannah is a Hufflepuff and Neville is a Gryffindor. They’re both in my year, so they’re too young to be parents, much less grandparents.”

Soon after, Cyrus said, “The letter was right about Harry Potter being elevated to Lord Black and Lord Potter without him being told. And what’s this about Susan Bones?”

Daphne huffed. “How she looks is _unfair_ to every other girl in our year, Father.”

Cyrus refolded the long parchment, handed it back to Daphne and watched as Daphne put the long parchment back inside her invisible box. By the time Daphne had walked back to rejoin her father, Cyrus had figured out what he wanted to say about this _shocking_ letter—

“I will keep this letter a secret, and I will keep secret my guesses about what ‘young Harry’ has been told by his future self. Also, ‘young Harry’ has my full support, and _you marrying him_ has my full support.”

“ _Thank_ you, Father,” Daphne said, as she threw her arms around Cyrus and hugged him.

Cyrus was caught totally by surprise. Purebloods, after all, never hugged.


	7. The Will Is Made Public

**During the 5th July session of the Wizengamot  
** **5th July was the first Friday in July**

Albus Dumbledore, acting here as Chief Warlock, asked the Wizengamot seat-holders, “Is there any new business?”

Lord Lucius Malfoy raised his lit wand and was recognised.

Malfoy stood, then looked around the chamber. “A week ago, I was present at what was _supposed to be_ the will-reading of Sirius Black, the most recent Lord Black. During this reading, Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore, _you_ were present, even though I never heard your name mentioned as a beneficiary. During the will-reading, at times _you_ made use of a Silencing Charm on the will-reader, so that parts of the will _could not be heard_ by those of us in the room!”

Malfoy paused, and responses like “Outrageous!” and “That’s illegal!” were heard, both by seat-holders and in the visitors’ gallery.

Malfoy continued, “I noticed that as soon as the will-reader started to speak Harry Potter’s name, you silenced the goblin. I _demand_ to know, Chief Warlock Dumbledore, why Harry Potter’s inheritances must be kept secret, even from those of us who were in the room!”

“You tell him,” someone said.

Malfoy continued, “Of the parts of the will that _you chose to let us hear_ , Chief Warlock Dumbledore, no mention was made of who would succeed Sirius Black as Lord Black or Lady Black.”

“We need to know this,” several seat-holders said.

“If the succession was in fact not mentioned in Sirius Black’s will, then the rules of primogeniture would apply, making Bellatrix Black Lestrange the new Lady Black. But if Sirius Black left the Lordship to Harry Potter, then either Harry Potter is already Lord Black, or Harry Black is the Black Heir and shall become Lord Black when he turns seventeen.”

Someone in the visitors’ gallery said, “Oi, Bellatrix Lestrange and Harry Potter, what a difference!”

Malfoy said, “During this past week, I have waited for the _Daily Prophet_ to write something about the Sirius Black will—because I am sure it would be newsworthy! Alas, my wait has been in vain. This morning, I went to the Department of Records, to cheque on the Sirius Black will. I learnt that the will, which was read a week ago, still has _not_ been released to the public, by order of the Chief Warlock. _What are you hiding, Chief Warlock Dumbledore?_ ”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he calmly asked, “Are you speaking now merely to publicly rant about me, or do you have a point to make, Lord Malfoy?”

Malfoy replied, “I move that the will of Sirius Black be released to the wizarding public—immediately and completely, without restriction.”

Dumbledore calmly asked, “Is there a second to this motion?”

Dumbledore was startled when Cyrus Greengrass, who usually was no friend of Lucius’s, seconded the motion.

Dumbledore said, “Thank you, Lord Malfoy, you may be seated”—even though Lucius looked like he had more to say.

Dumbledore then said, “I now open the floor to debate.”

But Dumbledore did not _immediately_ recognise any of the seat-holders who now were holding raised and glowing wands. Instead, Dumbledore said with grave sombreness, “I have kept part of Sirius Black’s will from being heard, and I have kept all of the will from being released, because otherwise it would place a very special young man in great danger.”

Dumbledore truly expected that this was all he would need to say, in order to persuade the Wizengamot to seal the Sirius Black will. But within minutes, Dumbledore was given an unpleasant surprise: Only Arthur Weasley rose to speak against Malfoy’s motion, and only Arthur Weasley voted against the motion.

By noon, the Wizarding World Network was enthusiastically discussing what the newly emancipated Harry Potter might do in his future, now that he could act as Lord Potter _and_ Lord Black.

For Dumbledore, this was a right inconvenience. But he could see bright sides to all this—

 _Fortunately_ , Dumbledore thought, _Harry doesn’t own a wizarding radio, nor do his closest friends Hermione and Ronald. I’m sure I can convince the_ Daily Prophet _to sit on the story for at least a week_. _So I’m sure I can keep the news from Harry for a while. Also, since it will be years, if ever, before Harry claims his seats in this chamber, I may vote two proxies now, not only one_.

****

**Friday afternoon, in Knockturn Alley**

Lucius Malfoy, whilst involved in activities of which Narcissa would not approve, ran into Samuel Flint. Samuel was two years older than Draco, and had just received his N.E.W.T. scores and finished Hogwarts.

“Lord Malfoy, good afternoon.”

“Mr Flint.”

Lucius asked for politeness’s sake, “How are things with you?” In truth, Lucius did not much care.

Samuel made a rocking-hand motion. “My job interviews with Lord Bulstrode look hopeful. On the other hand, a betrothal that I was _quite_ looking forward to, shan’t be happening.”

“Oh? A betrothal with whom?”

“Daphne Greengrass. Besides looking beautiful, she also is the Greengrass Heiress. But Lord Greengrass ended betrothal negotiations soon after starting them, with no explanation at all.”

“Such a shame,” Lucius said aloud.

Meanwhile, Lucius was thinking, _Harry Potter becomes Lord Black, and suddenly Daphne Greengrass is back on the market. Coincidence? The Greengrasses are Grey, not Dark, but would Cyrus marry off his daughter to the half-blood boy whose best friends are a blood-traitor and a mudblood? Would Daphne Greengrass do something so shameful as marrying Harry Potter?_

****

**7th July**

Greyclay, the Head Elf at Potter Manor, appeared to Harry in his bedroom at Privet Drive. Greyclay informed Harry that Potter Manor had been completely repaired and restored by the Manor’s four house-elves. Harry praised Greyclay for a great job, which made the old elf blush.

Harry asked Greyclay to elf- _pop_ him to Gringotts. At Gringotts, Harry told Ragnok to begin the warding of Potter Manor on 13th July, as previously contracted.

Then Harry asked Greyclay to elf- _pop_ him back into his bedroom at Privet Drive. The Gringotts trip had taken only ten minutes, and neither the Dursleys nor Harry’s Order guardian realised that Harry ever had been gone.

****

**Two days later: 9th July**

Albus Dumbledore loved it when the universe cooperated with Dumbledore achieving the Greater Good.

Dumbledore knew that Harry subscribed to the _Daily Prophet_ , but the _Prophet_ still had revealed nothing about the Sirius Black will, Harry’s emancipation or Harry’s double-elevation to Lord of two Houses. Which meant that so far as Harry knew, he was still a mere orphan schoolboy, and one who still was trapped at Number 4, Privet Drive. Furthermore, so far as Harry knew, he was destined to spend at least the next twenty-two days at Privet Drive.

But no, in three days Albus planned to visit the boy, to drop some news about Harry’s inheritance, then to “rescue” Harry unexpectedly early and to take him to the Weasleys’ house—so that Harry would upgrade from a nasty prison to a nicer one.

The news about Harry’s inheritances would need to be finessed. As much as Dumbledore would prefer to tell the boy _nothing_ , this was impractical. There were decisions about Grimmauld Place that only Harry Potter could make, and Harry would see no reason to make those decisions unless he was told some version of _You now own the townhouse_.

The trick for Albus was to present some edited version of the facts to Harry, so that Harry would be so slavishly grateful for being “rescued” from the Dursleys that he would never wonder whether he could have left the Dursleys on his own.

After further thought, Dumbledore decided what to tell Harry: that Harry _maybe_ had inherited Grimmauld Place (a place which Dumbledore knew Harry had only unpleasant memories of), and that Harry had inherited a little money—not enough to change Harry’s life at all.

With all his plans made, Dumbledore wrote a brief note and owled it to the boy.

****

**12th July**

So by 12th July—

Tom Riddle thought he knew what was going on in Harry Potter’s life, and had no reason to wonder otherwise.

Albus Dumbledore thought he knew what was going on in Harry Potter’s life, and had no reason to wonder otherwise.

The only oddities to disturb the dark lords’ fool’s paradise were two: Lucius Malfoy discovered that Cyrus Greengrass had begun, then soon had ended, betrothal negotiations with a dislikable bloke; whilst Dumbledore had found Harry Potter’s reply letter to be oddly _willful_.

As for Harry Potter, by 12th July, now he had all his ducks in a row. He still was hoping that the headmaster would prove _not_ to be a manipulative old fart.

On Friday, 12th July, at 11:00 p.m. _exactly_ , the streetlamp that stood in front of Number 4, Privet Drive, went out.


	8. Will and Won’t 2.0

It was Friday, 12th July, and headmaster Albus Dumbledore was about to be put to the test, though he did not know this yet.

A week ago, the house-elf Bluegrass had handed Harry a letter from Daphne. She reported that the Wizengamot had made the Sirius Black will public, thanks to pushing by Daphne’s father, Lord Greengrass, and by— _Are you ready for this?_ —Lord Malfoy. Anyway, once wizarding radio put its hands on the will, the only subject under discussion on Friday afternoon had been “Harry Potter, Harry Potter, what’s Harry Potter going to do now?”

Harry had wondered how Saturday’s _Daily Prophet_ would cover the story. Would the newswriters sneer at him? Would the newswriters write something like “Finally, Harry Potter catches a break”? But the answer turned out to be “Harry Potter and Sirius Black are not worth mentioning.” The Saturday, 6th July _Daily Prophet_ had had more to say about the Chudley Cannons—the club _almost_ had scored a tie match—than about Harry Potter.

Last Sunday morning, Monday morning, and Tuesday morning, the _Prophet_ still had written nothing about Harry Potter’s emancipation and nothing about his elevation to a double Lordship. Meanwhile, wizarding radio, so Daphne had told Harry in another elf-carried note, still could talk about nothing else than Harry Potter’s love life. Daphne had reported that the favoured woman for “Harry’s second wife”—it being a no-brainer that Hermione Granger would be Harry’s first wife—was Susan Bones. Listeners ranked Lavender Brown as second favourite, and Daphne was ranked _third_. Daphne was displeased to report this.

But Tuesday, 9th July, after Harry had started his day with another no-Harry _Daily Prophet_ , his day had included a barn owl delivering a short letter from Dumbledore—

_Dear Harry,_

_If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven P.M. to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays._

_If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you._

_Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday,_

_I am, yours most sincerely,_

_(signed) Albus Dumbledore_

Elderly Harry had written to young Harry about the original version of this letter on 9th July, and about Dumbledore’s original visit on 12th July. How naive elderly Harry’s young self had been, how trusting!

The brief reply written by elderly-Harry-counselled Harry was almost certainly not what the headmaster was expecting to read—

_Professor Dumbledore,_

_The idea that a sixth-year student can advise the headmaster of Hogwarts is quite flattering, so trust that I will give you whatever aid I can, regarding the unspecified matter that concerns you._

_But as for you escorting me to the Burrow for the rest of the summer, this won’t be happening. I have made other plans; you should have consulted with me earlier._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Harry James Potter_

Frankly, Harry would not have been surprised if the headmaster had Apparated into Harry’s bedroom within the hour. But no, the rest of Tuesday had passed with no second owl-letter from Dumbledore and no magical visit.

Likewise, Harry on Wednesday and Thursday had been spared both owls from Dumbledore and visits from Dumbledore. As for the _Daily Prophet_ , Harry was no longer surprised that the newspaper had not mentioned him during either day.

Friday morning’s _Daily Prophet_ had talked about Harry for the first time in over a week—as the Chosen One who was destined, by an unquoted prophecy, to battle Voldemort someday. In other Friday news, the new Minister for Magic Rufus Scrimgeour had held a press conference (Fudge had been forced out as Minister for Magic), there were follow-up stories about the recent destruction of two Muggle bridges by Death Eaters, the West Country of England still was being ravaged by a combination of giants and Death Eaters, and funeral services had been held yesterday for Director Amelia Bones of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—yet another casualty of Death Eaters.

As Friday passed, it became more and more obvious to Harry that Dumbledore intended to show up at his declared time of eleven in the evening. Harry reread this part of elderly Harry’s book-letter, and mulled what he needed to do.

A little after eight in the evening, Harry came to a decision. He walked downstairs and into the sitting room, where all three Dursleys were watching the telly.

****

Harry said to the Dursleys, “At eleven tonight, Headmaster Dumbledore will pay me a visit.”

Uncle Vernon started to speak; Harry’s hand snapped up in a _Stop_ gesture. “Nobody can persuade him not to come, nobody can persuade him to come earlier, once he’s written he’s coming at eleven, and we can’t lock him out.”

“What happens at eleven?” Dudley asked.

“He comes, he and I talk, he tries to order me to leave with him, I tell him I don’t intend to leave, then life for me gets _unpredictable_ ,” Harry said with a grim smile.

Aunt Petunia blinked. “You choose to stay with _us_ rather than go to some frea— _wizard_ place with Dumbledore?”

“Oh, I definitely want to visit my wizard friends this summer, and so I shall—but not for the entire summer, and not on Dumbledore’s schedule. The challenge is, Dumbledore never hears the word _no_.”

Uncle Vernon paused, then asked, “Would you like for us to help you?” _Would you like for us to help you beat up Dumbledore?_

Vernon’s “offer” was basically asking for permission for him and Dudley to do what they wanted to do anyway. Alas, Harry knew what the result of Vernon and Dudley attacking Dumbledore would be. So Harry replied—

“I’ve seldom seen Dumbledore angry; but I don’t want him angry at _you_. At eleven, I ask you to _stay upstairs_. I doubt there will be yelling; but even if there _is_ yelling, _please stay upstairs_.”

“Are you scared?” Dudley asked. Surprisingly, Dudley’s tone was not mocking.

Harry replied, “I’m not scared now, and I don’t expect to be scared at eleven. But by 11:02, I might be _angry_.”

The Dursleys were silent for a time, whilst the telly chattered. Then Aunt Petunia said, “Thank you for telling us ahead of time. Good luck.”

Uncle Vernon and Dudley nodded.

****

**Friday, 12th July, 11:00 p.m.  
** **Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey**

Albus Dumbledore _could have_ Apparated or Portkeyed just inside the front door of the house, and this would have obeyed the Statute of Secrecy. But Dumbledore never passed up a chance to show off.

It was unlikely that one of the Dursleys’ neighbours would be looking out a window at eleven at night, would see a man suddenly appear at the kerb (without a car having brought him there), and would see him walk up the garden path to the Dursleys’ front door. In short, Dumbledore _did not need to_ turn off the streetlamp that was in front of Number 4—but Dumbledore darkened it anyway.

Once Dumbledore was at Number 4’s front step, he rang the doorbell— _knowing_ that this would awaken everyone in the house.

Dumbledore expected to hear noises and yelling. Instead, after only a second of silent waiting, the front door opened. There stood Harry.

Dumbledore had heard none of the metal sounds of a door unlocking. This meant that Harry already had been standing on the other side of the door, and already had unlocked the door.

“Enter freely and of your own will,” Harry said to Dumbledore. Harry’s face was in shadow; Dumbledore could not read the boy’s expression.

****

Harry held the door open only until Dumbledore stepped into the house. Then Harry shut the door, locked it, and walked away from the door. Meanwhile, Dumbledore was looking around.

“I don’t see your trunk anywhere, Harry. I can wait whilst you pack.”

Harry replied, “I told you in my letter that I wasn’t going to the Burrow till later this summer. Did you think I was joking?”

Dumbledore heard a noise above him. As quick as he could (considering what the Gault ring’s curse already had done to his right hand), Dumbledore pulled the Elder Wand from a pocket and aimed it upward.

At the top of the stairs stood Harry’s blond Muggle cousin, dressed in pyjamas. The lad flinched when Dumbledore pointed a wand at him, but did not move away.

“Everything all right, Harry?” the Muggle boy asked.

Harry said, “Everything is fine, Dudley, thank you. Go back to bed.”

“Yell if you need anything,” the Muggle said, before walking away to the right.

Dumbledore said in his _disappointed grandfather_ voice, “Harry—”

Harry said, “You’re disturbing my relatives’ sleep, _sir_ , and it’s way too late for this to be a social call. You came here to ask me something; let’s get to it.”

Dumbledore was wrong-footed and beginning to worry. What had happened to the polite and pliant boy whom Dumbledore had been expecting? _This_ Harry acted like a young, male version of Augusta Longbottom.

“Very well, Harry, I came here to tell you about your inheritance, and about a problem we—that is to say, the Order—have with it.”

“I have an inheritance? From Sirius Black, I suppose.”

There was a moment of awkward silence, as Dumbledore waited for Harry to beg for details about his inheritance, but Harry simply _looked_ at Dumbledore.

It was Dumbledore who broke the silence: “Sirius’s will was discovered a week ago”—for some reason, Harry frowned—“and he left some money to your friend Hermione, but he left you everything else.”

Harry asked, “So what’s the problem, the Order wants me to get rid of Mrs Black’s portrait? I don’t know any spell that would work.”

“No, this isn’t the problem. About your inheritance, you gain a modest amount of gold to add to what you already have—I suggest transferring the contents of Sirius’s vault into your vault—and you inherit his flying motorcycle and his other personal possessions. The problem—”

“Hold on, you said I ‘gain a modest amount of gold.’ Could I buy a new broom with my new gold?”

Dumbledore answered smoothly, “You could, but it would be foolish of you to spend your inherited galleons incautiously.”

“Yes, sure, I see that. Sorry, I interrupted—you were saying there was a ‘problem’ with my inheritance?”

“The problem is that whilst the will _says_ you inherit Grimmauld Place, the House of Black tradition is that only a Pureblood and a member of the Black family may own the townhouse. Which twice excludes you. Black family magic might enforce the tradition, despite the will.”

“So if I can’t inherit Grimmauld Place, who _does_ inherit it? Or does the townhouse become abandoned?”

“If Sirius had not left a will, Bellatrix Black Lestrange would inherit everything.”

Harry gave Dumbledore a _look_ , then said calmly, “ ‘Mad Bellatrix’ kills my godfather, then she inherits his house? No, this would not be a good outcome.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Another problem is that the Fidelius Charm, which makes the townhouse Unplottable, might have failed with Sirius’s death. If Lestrange has inherited the townhouse and she can walk up to it in London, it would be foolish for the Order of the Phoenix to be holding a meeting when she walks through the door. Thus the Order has stopped meeting at Grimmauld Place till we have resolved this.”

“Yes, I can understand the problem she would make,” Harry said. “So how does this involve _me?_ ”

“If you, and not Lestrange, have inherited Grimmauld Place, you also have inherited its house-elf, Kreacher.” Harry scowled, as Dumbledore expected he would. “Let us see whether you can give Kreacher an order that he must obey.”

Dumbledore pulled the Elder Wand out of his pocket and wordlessly flicked the wand to summon the old house-elf.

 _Crack_.

Kreacher stood there, quietly. Kreacher had _never_ been quiet in all the time Dumbledore had known him. _What is going on?_

Harry said, “I thought house-elf magic was more powerful than wizard magic. How can you summon a house-elf when you’re not his master?”

Dumbledore was _not_ about to answer truthfully— _I have the Elder Wand, which makes much “impossible” wizard magic possible_. Instead, Dumbledore said, “That’s not important right now. Harry, I need you to give Kreacher an order that he would not obey willingly.”

“Erm, I’m not sure I...”

“ _Harry!_ This is important. If you don’t own Kreacher, then Lestrange does, and this house-elf knows Order of the Phoenix secrets. I need this question answered _now_.”

“Well, when you put it that way....Kreacher, I apologise, but I need for you to sing ‘Rule Britannia’ now.”

Kreacher sighed— _sighed!_ —and sang a song till Harry stopped him. The song sounded vaguely familiar—then Dumbledore recalled hearing it sung in Tom Riddle’s orphanage.

Before Dumbledore could suggest that Harry send Kreacher to the Hogwarts kitchens, Harry said, “Thank you, Kreacher. Return to the townhouse.” _Crack_ —Kreacher was gone.

Dumbledore wondered, _Why was Kreacher so quiet and agreeable when I summoned him here?_ But the headmaster could put forth no theories.

Another minute was spent deciding what to do with Buckbeak the hippogriff (who still had a Ministry of Magic death-sentence hanging over him). Dumbledore suggested allowing Hagrid, who already was caring for Buckbeak, to continue to keep him; Hagrid, Dumbledore remarked, had renamed the hippogriff “Witherwings.” Harry shrugged as he verbally agreed to Dumbledore’s suggestion.

Then Dumbledore said, “Harry, I must insist you stop with your adolescent stubbornness and make ready to travel to the Burrow tonight.”

Harry crossed his arms. “Headmaster, I’ve told you twice already that I’m not going to the Burrow _tonight_. If all our other business is concluded, I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Harry walked to the front door, unlocked it and grasped the doorknob. The boy looked at Dumbledore with a raised eyebrow.

Dumbledore’s jaw dropped.

****

The headmaster thought, _To defeat him, you need information_. Aloud, Dumbledore said, “Tell me what you’re thinking, Harry.”

Harry said, “To simply assume that I will go to the Burrow when you decide to take me, and that the Weasleys will host me when I get there, is thoughtless in both cases, Professor. Not to mention—”

“Harry, Arthur and—”

“ _Headmaster_ , I was still speaking. Not to mention, the Weasleys aren’t rich, we both know this, and they hosting me for _more than three fortnights_ would strain their budget. Also—”

“Harry—”

“ _Also_ , Neville once told me that his grandmother told _him_ , ‘Both fish and guests stink after three days.’ I don’t want to wear out my welcome with the Weasleys.”

Dumbledore thought, _I need to bring him back to heel. I can’t let him act independently like this!_ Aloud, he said, “And how would you get to the Burrow on your own, without me taking you there?”

“Well, we’ve just proven I can call on Kreacher. That will be my emergency fallback.” Then Harry smiled mischievously. “Or I could ride the _Knight Bus_ —the twins tell me that someone needs to be a Gryffindor to be brave enough to ride it, but it’s _cheap!_ ”

“Harry, the Knight Bus is not _safe_.”

“Neither is Hogwarts—what’s your point?”

“Harry, these are perilous times. I need you to trust me and to take my advice.”

Harry shook his head. “You never explain your _reasons_ for the advice. With you, _always_ I’m expected to buy a pig in a poke.”

“Harry, I don’t always explain my reasons, but they always are good reasons. _Always_ I act for the Greater Good. Trust me.”

Harry shook his head—and Dumbledore was surprised to see that the boy was _crying_. “No, Professor, I _don’t_ trust you. Cedric Diggory died, Sirius died and Hermione almost died, all because I trusted you. You’ve looked at me with your twinkling eyes and you’ve _lied_ to me. Merlin, you’ve lied to me _tonight_.”

Cold dread hit Dumbledore’s brain, but he kept his face and voice _almost_ grandfatherly. “When have I ever lied to you, Harry?”

“Oh, let’s see. You’re the head man at Hogwarts _and_ the Wizengamot _and_ the ICW, yet how many times have you told me, ‘I can’t help you’? Remember the day when the Goblet of Fire spit out _four_ names for the _Tri_ -Wizard Tournament, and the fourth parchment had _my_ name on it? Out of the blue, I was given an almost-certain death sentence—and you claimed to be as powerless as Argus Filch _._ ”

“Harry, you need to understand—”

Harry raised his right hand and clenched it into a fist. Dumbledore at first was puzzled, because Harry was not one of those boys who threatened people. Then on Harry’s bare ring-finger a ring appeared, showing a big ‘P’ on a clay-grey background. Then the ring changed its colour and design, now showing a white ‘B’ on a black background. Then the B-ring became the P-ring again, then again the B-ring, before both rings seemingly vanished.

Crying Harry said, “When were you planning to tell me that I was an adult and you were no longer my magical guardian? When were you planning to tell me that the same will that made me Lord Black also disinherited and disowned Bellatrix Lestrange, so that it would be _impossible_ for her to inherit Grimmauld Place? When were you planning to tell me that, rather than a ‘modest amount of gold,’ just the Black family vaults _alone_ contain enough galleons to make me richer than the Malfoys? _What the bloody fuck were you thinking when you put me with the bloody Dursleys?_ ”

Harry still was standing by the front door. “According to the prophecy, _I_ am the Chosen One who has to battle Tom Riddle to the death. So I’m going to need advice from people I trust. Hermione. ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody. McGonagall. Some others. But the list of ‘those I trust’ no longer includes _you_ , Albus, and I shall no longer take your orders.”

Dumbledore said, “Harry my boy, sometimes you _act_ like a boy.” So saying, Dumbledore pointed his wand up the stairs.

****

Harry’s bedroom door opened. Seconds later, Harry’s school trunk floated out the door and down the stairs, followed by Harry’s brass telescope, his school robes, his Muggle clothes, Hedwig’s cage, rolls of parchment and quills and inkpots, and everything else in Harry’s bedroom that he would need as a Hogwarts student.

“ _What are you doing?_ ” Harry demanded.

Dumbledore ignored Harry’s question, and continued to wave his wand like a symphony conductor. Harry’s things began to pack themselves into his school trunk.

“I don’t like this,” Harry muttered.

Soon the last of Harry’s Hogwarts things had moved out of his bedroom; Dumbledore politely shut Harry’s bedroom door. Seconds after this, when Harry’s school trunk was completely packed, Dumbledore’s wand made the trunk close itself.

Then— _Pop!_ —Harry’s trunk vanished.

“ _Where did it go?_ ” Harry demanded.

Dumbledore turned to Harry, his eyes a-twinkle. “To the Burrow, don’t worr— _Harry!_ ”

Too late, it seemed, Dumbledore noticed that Harry now had his wand out—

Harry snapped, “You tosser! _Expelliarmus!_ ”

Dumbledore was pushed back several feet, at the same time as his wand flew from his hand towards Harry. Harry caught the wand one-handed, in a well-practised move.

As soon as the base of Dumbledore’s wand touched Harry’s left hand, the wand warmed up. Because of elderly Harry’s book-letter, Harry understood what this meant.

As Dumbledore scrambled to his feet, he looked close to crying. “Harry, do you have _any_ idea what you’ve done?”

“I’ve disarmed you,” Harry said angrily, “to force you to behave. Don’t worry, I’ll give you your wand back _in a minute_.” Harry mentally added, _Though now the Elder Wand’s loyalty will be to me, not to you_.

Harry opened the front door, and looked pointedly at the headmaster. “Albus Dumbledore, Head of Elder House Dumbledore, I, Harry Black-Potter, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black and Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, order you to depart my dwelling-place.”

Dumbledore magically was compelled to walk out the door.

After Dumbledore passed the doorway, Harry tossed Dumbledore his wand.

Then Harry said in a contemptuous voice, just loud enough for Dumbledore to hear, “By the way, when were you planning to tell me about the seven horcruxes, including my scar?”

Dumbledore gasped.

****

**Minutes later, at the Burrow**

Since Harry needed wizarding-world money to ride the Knight Bus, such money was in Harry’s trunk and Harry’s trunk was at Ottery Saint Catchpole, Harry needed Dobby’s help to travel to the edge of the wards of the Weasleys’ Burrow. (Fortunately, Dobby did not mind acting as short-notice chauffeur.)

Once Harry was at the Burrow, he rescued his trunk and escaped Molly’s overbearing clutches, which actually was more difficult than him escaping Dumbledore, earlier tonight, had been.

The compromise that Harry worked out with Arthur and Molly was that Harry would leave the Burrow tonight but return tomorrow—for three days.

Hermione already was at the Burrow. When she learnt of Harry’s new plans, she gave notice to the Weasley parents that this visit of hers would end in four days; she would leave the Burrow when Harry left.

Ron, when he heard about Harry’s and Hermione’s new plans, looked like he could not decide whether to feel relieved or angry.


	9. At the Burrow (Day 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three times in canon, Harry should have become a legal adult in Wizarding Britain before he turned seventeen: 1) When he was forced to participate in the Tri-Wizard Tournament at age fourteen, when supposedly only students who were seventeen or older could enter their names. 2) When Harry was cited for performing underage magic, during the summer between his fourth and fifth years, and he was given a full trial in front of the entire Wizengamot. 3) When Sirius Black’s will left Grimmauld Place and some money to Harry, both of which Harry had immediate use of.
> 
> Yet in canon, the blood-wards on the Privet Drive house remain active until Harry’s seventeenth birthday. The whole excitement at the beginning of _Deathly Hallows_ —the “flight of the seven Potters”—presumes that Voldemort and the Death Eaters are blocked from attacking the Privet Drive house until 31st July, 1997, _no matter what has happened to Harry before then._
> 
> Rowling presumes that the blood-wards fail when Harry becomes an adult. Well, if this were true, then Number 4, Privet Drive would have become a Death Eaters-destroyed ruin about the time Harry on his broom was being chased by a dragon. So why do the blood-wards stay up? Because Wizarding Britain law is massively unfair—“Harry, we can hit you with all sorts of junk that is quite, quite unfair, but you stay a child under the law with no rights, myuhaha!”—or because Rowling did not know the law when she wrote the series, or because Rowling did not think things through when she was plotting her stories, or because Rowling willfully ignored logical outcomes for the sake of building-up the drama.
> 
> The above is a long-winded way of telling you that in this story, the blood-wards will remain in place until Harry turns seventeen or when his permanent residence no longer is Privet Drive, _and these are the only two conditions to affect the blood-wards._ The fact that in this story, Harry now is emancipated three different ways shall not affect the blood-wards at all.

**Saturday, 13th July, during breakfast  
** **Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey**

Harry said to the Dursleys, “I have two things to tell you.

“First, when I was talking to Dumbledore last night, Dudley came out to the top of the stairs and offered me his help. This was a kind thing for you to do, Dudley. Big D surprised Dumbledore, who pointed his wand at Dudley, but my cousin didn’t run away. This was brave of you, Big D.”

Dudley beamed at the unexpected praise.

Harry continued, “Second, Dumbledore probably has mentioned the blood-wards that magically protect this house—but knowing the headmaster, probably hasn’t explained much. Think of the blood-wards as ten-foot-thick magical walls, but they’re _selective_. Nonmagical people—friends, neighbours, pedlars—can walk up the path, stand on your doorstep and ring your doorbell, no problem. Magical people with good intentions—Hogwarts faculty, friends of mine—also can walk up and walk in. But Voldemort, who is the evil wizard who killed my parents, as well as his minions, can’t get to me and they can’t get to you. Any questions?”

Nobody said anything. Uncle Vernon, amazingly, did not rant about _freaks_.

Harry looked hard at Aunt Petunia. “The reason they’re called ‘blood-wards’ is that they somehow tie into the bond of blood between my mother Lily and me, and the blood-wards are powered by the act of love of my mum _deliberately sacrificing herself_ for me. Also, I’m told that the spell is a _genius_ of magic: good wizards can’t explain how Mum cast the spell, and evil wizards can’t break the spell. So for now, all four of us are safe.”

“For _now?_ ” Aunt Petunia squeaked.

“Dumbledore doesn’t understand a lot about the blood-wards, but he understands that they will last till my seventeenth birthday, and they’ll last as long as _this house_ is my permanent residence.”

Uncle Vernon said, “So we’ve a little over a year before we’ve a problem.”

Harry shook his head. “I’ll spare you the details, but I’m already considered an adult in the wizarding world, and I recently became owner of three houses—”

“ _Three houses?_ ” said Dudley.

“I haven’t seen the third house, but the other two houses can be lived-in right now. I could remove to either house today, if I wanted—but the minute I removed from here, the ten-foot-thick magical walls would vanish.”

“And we’d be dead,” whispered Aunt Petunia, “and helpless to stop it.”

Harry nodded. “I’ve decided I’ll move out on 31st August. When I go to King’s Cross Station on the first of September, I’ll go there from someplace other than here. Now, several times during this summer, I plan to leave here _temporarily_ , to visit friends or for personal business; but I say again, I won’t leave here _permanently_ till 31st August. I’m giving you lot forty-nine days to find another place and to remove there.”

Uncle Vernon asked, “Why are you being so nice to us?”

Harry said, “Because whilst I don’t like you and you don’t like me, I don’t want you dead.”

Dudley said quietly, “ _I_ like you. Hard not to, when you saved me from a monster I couldn’t even see. I’m sorry for being a wanker to you, all these years.”

****

Harry ate breakfast, then washed the dishes. By age fifteen, Harry could do dishwashing mindlessly whilst he thought about something else. This time, whilst Harry washed dishes, his thoughts turned to Professor Severus Snape.

Earlier this year, because of an unlikely chain of events, Harry had viewed a pensieve memory of Snape’s Hogwarts years. To the son of James Potter and the godson of Sirius Black, viewing the memory had been awful—he saw two men whom he had always admired, revealed as fifth-year bullies. Harry had watched as his mother Lily had tried to stop teen-Severus’s upside-down, floating humiliation. This had led directly to what surely must be the greatest mistake of the potion-master’s life: humiliated, ashamed teen-Severus had lashed out at _Lily_ , calling her a “filthy mudblood”—which had ended the years-long friendship of Severus and Lily _instantly_.

Elderly Harry had mentioned this pensieve memory, and how much it had upset young Harry; but then elderly Harry had described other pensieve memories of Snape’s that he would view two years from now—viewed because the dying Severus Snape had _gifted_ those memories to seventeen-year-old Harry to watch.

Seventeen-year-old Harry had been shocked to view these memories—and fifteen-year-old young Harry had been shocked to read elderly Harry’s description of them. Teen-Severus, sick with regret, had _begged_ teen-Lily for forgiveness—but such forgiveness had been refused. Still, Severus had never lost his love for Lily. This had led to the man making “devil’s bargains” with both Voldemort and Dumbledore—and each man had squeezed Snape like a lemon. When it would be useful for Snape to die, Voldemort, with no regret, had ordered Nagini to bite Snape, then had left for more important work than watching Snape die. Dying Snape’s last request to Harry had been “Look at me”—the potions-master had wanted to die gazing into Lily’s green eyes, even if those eyes now belonged to Lily’s green-eyed _hated_ son.

Now, as young Harry washed dishes, he thought about all he knew about his third-biggest enemy, knowledge that _nobody_ —not Voldemort or Dumbledore, not Hermione or Daphne, not even Snape himself—knew that young Harry knew.

 _Could Snape’s love for my mother become the way to redeem him? Does my “saving-people thing” extend even to “the greasy git”?_ An idea began to form in young Harry’s brain.

****

But Harry had many other tasks on his to-do list for today besides maybe-redeeming Snape.

After washing the dishes, Harry went upstairs to his bedroom. In his bedroom, Harry called for Dobby, who elf- _pop_ ped him to Gringotts.

Minutes later, Harry was in the Potter family vault, seeking out a particular document: the betrothal contract between James Potter and Lily Evans, which was signed by Fleamont Potter and Minerva McGonagall.

After a two-hour search, Harry found the parchment he was seeking. He left the Gringotts vault and, after briefly consulting with the Potter-family account manager at Gringotts, was elf- _pop_ ped into a wizarding-world law office.

An hour later, and five thousand galleons poorer, Harry and Dobby elf-departed the law office to go to Hogwarts Castle. Specifically, to the Room of Lost Things.

Soon, with Dobby’s help, Harry tracked down the horcruxed Diadem of Ravenclaw. This was elf-transported to the dungeons at Grimmauld Place. Soon afterwards, Harry and the basilisk fang killed the diadem’s horcrux, whilst Dobby and Kreacher kept a close eye on Harry.

Harry presumed that Dumbledore had destroyed the horcrux in the ring that had cursed him; if so, the only horcrux not yet destroyed was the one in Nagini the snake.

Now feeling _much_ more cheerful about the outcome of his prophesied battle with Voldemort, Harry asked Dobby to elf- _pop_ him to Harry’s bedroom at Privet Drive.

Harry walked downstairs, told Aunt Petunia “I’m gone for three days” and walked upstairs. Harry and his trunk were elf- _pop_ ped to just outside the protection-wards for the Burrow.

****

**Harry at the Burrow**

The wards let Harry, whilst pulling his school trunk, walk across the ground and knock on the front door.

The door was yanked open by Fred and George, both grinning. George said, “Welcome to our humble home, Lord-Lord Harry.” George made an exaggerated bow.

Fred said, “You honour us with your presence, Lord-Lord Harry.” Fred actually dropped to his knees for his exaggerated bow.

Harry laughed, as he shut the front door behind himself. He said to the twins, “I guess you lot heard about my elevations.”

George said, “Today’s _Prophet_ has _three pages_ devoted to you, including guesses about _whom_ and _whom_ Lord Black-Potter will marry.”

Fred (now standing up) said, “Ginny has been wearing a dreamy smile all morning.”

Harry said, “Oh my. What about Hermione? What has been _her_ reaction?”

George said, “It’s quite odd—Hermione has said _nothing_.”

Fred said, “ _Unlike_ ickle Ronniekins.”

****

As soon as Harry and Hermione were in the same room, he walked up to her and murmured, “Two things. First, I’m negotiating a betrothal contract with your father.”

Hermione looked at Harry in surprise. “Already?”

He said, “Second, Dumbles might interrogate me whilst I’m here. I’m not worried, because I’m wearing my special Hermione-invented, no-mind-magic rune-sequence under my shirt. Are you?”

Hermione grinned a megawatt smile. “The rune-sequence that I designed in 2023? You _bet_ I’m wearing it.”

Harry grinned back. “Elderly Harry wrote to me, decades after 2023, that no wizard, Light or Dark, had ever figured out a way to beat your runes sheet. This is brilliant—now the _Imperius_ won’t work on me, legilimency won’t work on me, _Confundo_ won’t work, ditto _Obliviate_ —and your future self worked it out. Be proud.”

Hermione replied with mock-hauteur, “I _am_ the brightest witch of my age; such things are only to be expected.”

Then she gave Harry a quick kiss.

Hermione asked, “Professor Dumbledore’s visit with you yesterday, how did it go?”

Harry sighed. “He came at eleven at night, which would have frightened the Dursleys, except I had warned them ahead of time. When he talked to me, he tried to play off my trust and ignorance, which would have worked if I hadn’t read you-know-what. He didn’t show me the will, he told me almost nothing about what it said, and what little he told me was misleading. I lost my temper at the end, and told him something I shouldn’t have.”

“What did you say?”

“I mentioned the”—Harry lowered his voice—“seven horcruxes. Now he’ll demand to know _what_ they are, _where_ they are and how _I_ knew the list of them when _he_ didn’t.”

Hermione didn’t reply with words; instead, she threw her arms around Harry and gave him a long hug.

****

Starting within the hour, house-elves appeared in front of Harry and handed him a parchment. Harry would read each parchment, make comments, hand the parchment back, and each elf would _pop_ away.

One time, this happened during a pick-up Quidditch game, forcing the game to be paused; Ron looked annoyed.

****

A little after noon, three owls tapped on windows, bearing the O.W.L.-exam results of Ron, Hermione and Harry.

Ron’s attitude towards his examination results was “Forget all that, who wants to play chess?”

Hermione’s response was smug satisfaction—which was no surprise, considering the results she got—except she was annoyed at getting “only” an “Exceeds Expectations” in DADA.

Harry looked at the neatly-written parchment and felt nothing. Though taking the exams had happened only a few weeks ago by the calendar, to Harry it felt like _lifetimes_ ago. Since taking the exams, Harry had battled Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries, had seen his godfather die, had seen Hermione _almost_ die, had been told about the prophecy that linked himself and Voldemort, had read elderly Daphne’s letter and elderly Harry’s book-letter, had claimed two inheritances, and had listened to the man whom Harry had admired above all others, Albus Dumbledore, lie to Harry and try to mislead him.

Compared to these things, an “Acceptable” in Astronomy and a “Dreadful” in History of Magic did not upset Harry at all.

****

A house-elf _pop_ ped in whilst the Weasleys, plus Harry and Hermione, were eating dinner. Harry and the elf conversed, quietly and briefly, then the house-elf left; but this time, Ron snapped, “What the _bloody_ hell is going on?”

Harry replied calmly, “A prophecy connects Voldemort and me; soon I will have to fight him to the death. I now am Lord of House Potter and Lord of House Black. School starts in seven weeks—on 1st September, many restrictions will be dropped on me. I have much to do now, and not much time to do it in.”

Molly said dismissively, “You don’t need to worry about _any_ of those things, you’re just a boy!”

Harry shook his head. “I haven’t been a ‘boy’ since the troll in the bathroom. I haven’t been a ‘boy’ since I killed Voldemort-possessed Professor Quirrell.”

Ron said, “I was there, remember? With the troll in the bathroom. My spell stunned it, and _I_ consider myself still a boy!”

Hermione said acidly, “And you still _act_ like a boy, Ronald. Yes, your _wingardium leviosa_ stunned the monster, but Harry shoving his wand up the troll’s nose soon killed it. Harry was _eleven years old_ and he got this weight dropped on his soul.”

Molly said, “You should let Professor Dumbledore decide these things for you, even if now you’re _technically_ an adult. The headmaster is old and wise.”

Harry said, “ ‘Wise,’ _really?_ ” Harry locked eyes with Ron and with the twins. “Four words, Molly: ‘bars on the window.’ ”

“ _What?_ ” said Hermione. “Harry, you never told me about this!”

“The twins exaggerate,” Molly said dismissively.

“This time they didn’t,” Harry snapped. “At the Dursleys, I am treated like an inmate in a Muggle prison. And Molly? Dumbledore _put_ me in that place when I was fifteen months old, and Dumbledore _has kept me_ at that place—”

 _Pop_. Another house-elf appeared at the dinner table, and handed Harry another parchment. Harry read it, glanced around at six silent redheads and one silent, bushy-haired genius all watching him, then Harry handed the parchment back to the elf. “Paragraph three is too much—tell Yohanneus to tell Cyrus that I’ll accept half of what Three says.”

“Understood, Lord Black,” the house-elf said, then vanished.

Arthur Weasley said, “ ‘Cyrus’? As in ‘Cyrus Greengrass’?”

Ron demanded, “What kind of deals are you making with those slimy snakes?”

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, then Harry replied, “I am negotiating two betrothal contracts right now. As Lord Black, I am pursuing a betrothal with Daphne Greengrass. As Lord Potter, I am negotiating a betrothal contract for Hermione.”

“ _I hate you!_ ” Ginny cried. She jumped up and ran from the table. More slowly, Arthur stood up and followed his daughter. Every other redhead—even Molly—was shocked into silence.

****

Too soon, Molly said, “Harry, you should be _ashamed_ of yourself, even thinking about marrying _two women_. You should be even _more_ ashamed of marrying a _Dark_ woman. What’s wrong with marrying a Light woman of good family? Like Susan Bones? Or like—”

“ _Ginny_ ,” said George.

“Speaking _theoretically_ ,” said Fred.

Hermione glared at Molly. “ ‘Of good family’ doesn’t include _me?_ My parents both are _dentists_.”

“Your parents are _Muggles_ , dear,” Molly said, with condescension that could be heard in Bulgaria.

Harry cut off Hermione’s imminent rant to say, “Why Daphne? For personal reasons—”

Ron snickered. “I’ll bet.”

“—and also for political reasons. My life as Lord X will be _hell_ unless I know how the game is played, which Hogwarts _doesn’t_ teach Muggle-raised and Muggle-born students.”

Hermione muttered, “Tell me about it.”

Molly pressed, “Why not marry Ginny?”

Harry thought, _Elderly Harry married Ginny, and he always felt like he’d missed the boat whenever he looked at Hermione_. Aloud, Harry said, “Ginny has red hair like my mother, and I think of her as a sister. Marrying a girl who is a cross between my mother and my sister is just too weird.”

****

**One second later**

George said, “We should look on the bright side. For Harry, twice the wives means twice the”—he waggled his eyebrows—“fun-fun.”

Fred said, “Ah, but it’s our Hermione who gets the better deal. ‘Harry has two manor houses’ means Harry owns two _libraries_.”

Hermione grinned. “True, but some books in the _Black_ library will kill Lady _Potter_ if she touches them. Their family grimoire will kill me, if nothing else.”

“Bah!” said George. “A simple problem with a simple solution.” Now speaking in falsetto, George said, “Harry? Honey baby snookums? I will be _nice_ to you tonight—”

Fred, speaking falsetto, took over: “ _Quite_ , _quite_ nice to you tonight—”

George touched Fred’s arm in warning: “ _Quite_ , _quite_ nice to you tonight, in ways Mum won’t let us spell out at the dinner table—”

“If you would do me a tiny little favour—”

George and Fred, both speaking falsetto, spoke together: “Turn the _bloody_ page of the _bloody Black-family grimoire!_ ”

Hermione _shrieked_ with laughter, then she laughed till she cried. When she finally could speak again, she fist-bumped the twins and said, “You clowns _completely_ understand me. _Merlin!_ ”

****

That night, Harry removed parchment, ink bottle and quill from his trunk, then went downstairs. He put all his carried things on the Weasleys’ dinner table, sat down, put a Notice-Me-Not Charm around himself, then began to write a letter to Severus Snape.

A half-hour later, Harry tied the letter to Hedwig’s leg. Harry watched as his snowy owl flew away into the night.

Harry thought, _Writing this letter to Snape is either the smartest thing I’ll have ever done, or I’ve just created a disaster of Biblical scale_.

Then Harry thought, _I need to get my mind off worry that I’ve just made a huge mistake. How about I write a letter to Daphne?_

****

Dear Daphne,

I barely know you (and most of what I know about you has been in the last fortnight), so I feel weird, writing to you. But Gryffindors charge ahead! Here goes.

Right now, Hermione and I are visiting the Burrow (the Weasleys’ name for their house). When I knocked on the front door, the twins opened it. Immediately they both bowed to me and called me “Lord-Lord Harry.” This was how I learnt that the _Daily Prophet_ had _finally_ reported about Sirius Black’s will and about my inheritances.

I’ve always enjoyed the twins’ company. Don’t tell any Weasleys this, but sometimes I haven’t wanted to be anywhere near Ron, and sometimes Ginny creeps me out when she acts so stalkerish. I’ve _always_ disliked Percy.

Molly (Mrs Weasley), I have mixed feelings about. She knitted me a jumper for Christmas of first year, even before she had met me. She loves to give out hugs, and she’s a great cook. On the other hand, “Howler Molly” does not hold back if you do something she disapproves of. All of the Weasley sons who are old enough to leave home, _did_ leave, as quickly as they could.

Arthur Weasley (Lord Weasley) is someone I like but don’t respect. He doesn’t stand up to his wife, and he thinks Dumbledore defecates unicorns and rainbows.

Speaking of Dumbledore, he came to my relatives’ house late last night. The only parts of my inheritance he told me about were the main Black family house (a place he knows I have only bad memories of), and (supposedly) “a modest amount of gold.” He said _nothing_ about me becoming an emancipated minor, or becoming Lord Black, or becoming Lord Potter, or now being able to spend lots and lots and lots of galleons! So I have joined your recent letter-writer’s husband in deciding that Dumbledore is a liar and a swindler. But I didn’t want to realise these truths, and I became sad when I did.

In other news, you know that I’m negotiating a betrothal contract for you and me with your father. I also am negotiating a betrothal contract for Hermione and me with her parents. (Actually, I’m negotiating the betrothal contract with Professor McGonagall, since she’s Hermione’s magical guardian. But I’m sure that “Minnie” won’t sign the contract until she’s sure that the Doctors Granger are fine with the contract terms.) My first proposed betrothal contract for Hermione was the final betrothal contract that Fleamont Potter and Professor McGonagall signed, for the betrothal between my father and my Muggle-born mother.

Daphne, I have a Muggle-born mother, and I am Muggle-raised. You should know that you aren’t just getting a man with a House and title, you’re getting a man who is, for all practical purposes, a Muggle-born. I haven’t been Lord Potter and Lord Black for long, but already at times I feel like a complete impostor—as if I put on a long blond wig and called myself ‘Lord Malfoy.’ Figure that in the years ahead, your Muggle-raised husband will annoy you because of things you think I should know but I don’t know, and because I have the “wrong” attitudes. On the other hand, Pureblood men are in some ways all alike, whereas I’m like nobody else on the planet, so being married to me won’t be boring!

(signed) Harry

P.S. Remember that special rectangular thing I gave you recently? Please start wearing it under your clothes, if you aren’t already doing so. I suspect that soon you, Hermione and I all will encounter would-be _intruders_.

****

**Meanwhile, at Spinner’s End**

Severus Snape was in bed, half asleep, when he heard the tapping on his window. Alas, having two masters meant that it was unthinkable that Snape make the owl wait till morning to unload his burden.

Grumbling Snape opened the window to let the owl enter his bedroom—and the potions-master was _shocked_ when he saw which owl it was. Anyone who had been at Hogwarts longer than a week knew _bloody_ well to whom the snowy owl belonged. _Why is Harry Potter writing to me?_ Snape wondered.

The answer-thought came immediately: _He scored only “Acceptable” on his Potions O.W.L. exam, but he wants in the N.E.W.T.-level class anyway. No chance in hell, Mr Potter!_

It turned out, that Snape’s guess, about the subject of Harry Potter’s letter, was completely wrong.

****

Severus (the name that my mother Lily knew you as),

You have given me every reason to wish you harm and to hate you, because you first hated me. As you endlessly remind me, I am the son of James Potter, a man I have exactly one memory of—of him yelling the last thing he would ever say.

But whilst I am James’ son, I also am Lily’s. Lily Evans once called you her friend, and she once rebuked my father and my godfather in order to make them stop their humiliation of you.

It is to Severus Snape, formerly the boy loved by my mother, to whom I write this letter.

Because of the love that my mother felt for both of us, I give you a one-time gift: a free choice.

I have become bloody sick of Dumbledore giving me “choices” that really aren’t: Do I want to go back to live with Aunt Petunia and her bullying husband and son, or do I want their deaths on my conscience? Do I want to participate in a tournament that likely will kill me, or do I want to be stripped of my magic?

I suspect that our manipulative old fart of a headmaster has put you in similar situations, where saying yes and saying no are _not_ equally possible choices for you.

Yet this is the choice I give you now. Below, I tell you the complete text of the prophecy, which I know is information that Voldemort is desperate to get. Because Neville accidentally destroyed the prophecy orb, Voldemort can’t get the prophecy from the orb. Voldemort can’t get the prophecy from my mind (I won’t explain how), and Dumbledore is too skilled at Occlumency for Voldemort to get the full text from him. Likewise, you are too skilled at Occlumency for Voldemort to rip the full text of the prophecy from your mind. But why would Voldemort suspect that you might know the full prophecy in the first place? He wouldn’t, because why would _anyone_ suspect that Harry Potter has confided _anything_ to the Potions professor who so clearly hates him?

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._

So now you know the full prophecy. Nobody can mind-read you to get this information, and nobody suspects that you know it. (Dumbledore no longer can mind-read me, and I have told neither Hermione nor Ron that I am writing you this letter.) Voldemort will get the full text of the prophecy from you only if you volunteer to speak it aloud.

Now you understand the free choice I give you: You can _stay silent_ about the full prophecy, and no consequences will befall you. Or you can tell Voldemort the full prophecy, and neither Dumbledore or I can stop you. _The choice is yours_.

(signed) Harry James Potter, son of Lily Evans Potter

P.S. On my Potions O.W.L., I scored an E. It wasn’t an O (what Hermione scored), but I’m pleased with it.

****

Snape read the letter and sneered. _This is exactly the sort of thing that Godric Gryffindor might have done: give valuable intelligence to an enemy, to keep things “fair.”_

But then an unwanted thought burst into Snape’s brain: _Godric Gryffindor might have told me the full prophecy, but James Potter never would have, not in a million years. In this, Harry Potter is quite unlike his father_.


	10. At the Burrow (Day 2)

Harry eagerly waited for Hedwig to return with Snape’s reply. But Harry was disappointed when he read the reply—

“Mr Potter, the score for your Potions O.W.L. is well named. You have indeed exceeded my expectations.”

Snape’s note said nothing about Harry’s “gift,” or what the potions-master planned to do with the “gift.”

****

**The next morning, at the Burrow**

After breakfast, Bluegrass, the Greengrass-family house-elf, handed Harry a letter from Daphne. Daphne had written—

_You tell me that you like Fred and George Weasley. Speaking for myself, I’m_ glad _that they sat their N.E.W.T. exams and are gone from Hogwarts. Seldom did they target Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff for pranks, and they_ never _targeted Gryffindor (except for their own brothers). But the twins OFTEN targeted Slytherin! In my third year, every girl in Slytherin spent three days with green skin and metallic-silver hair. We looked like some kind of magical creature, not like witches._

_What you told me about Dumbledore didn’t surprise me at all. The only way you could lower my opinion of the man any further would be to tell me he eats babies for breakfast. Part of the reason for your and my different attitudes towards Dumbledore is that nobody warned you about him before you met him as an eleven-year-old, whereas my parents told me before I boarded the train as a firstie, “Don’t buy what he’s selling.”_

_I told Tracey (Davis) that you and my father are negotiating my betrothal, besides you trying to become betrothed to Hermione. Tracey said that if I’m going to be your wife someday, she doesn’t know whether to envy me or to pity me. Would you feel offended if I told you that sometimes I feel the same way? To your describing yourself as “like nobody else on the planet,” I must agree. I have known you (a tiny bit) for five years, and you still surprise me._

_But I must confess something. You are a strange boy and I don’t understand you at all, but I trust you completely. Is this strange for me to say so soon?_

_Tracey also said to me, “Harry Potter is acting like the most Pureblood of Purebloods” (for negotiating a betrothal contract when you and I have never even gone on a Hogsmeade date). One of the reasons that those who hate you in Slytherin,_ do _hate you, is because you were the Potter Heir but you never_ acted _like the Potter Heir, you acted like a_ Muggle-born _. So I’m confused, and Tracey is confused too: Why are you now in such a hurry to become betrothed to me? Do I have such a high reputation in the other three Houses?_

_Yes, I am wearing the “special rectangular thing.” I am hugely curious what will happen when/if it’s ever put to the test. Does the “know-it-all” in fact know it all?_

****

Harry wrote back to Daphne immediately.

_Dear Daphne,_

_The Weasley twins have pranked Gryffindors other than Percy and Ron, believe me. But all of the twins’ other-Gryffindors pranks have been in the Gryffindor common room, so nobody else has ever seen them. For whatever reason, the twins have never pranked Hermione or me. In defence of the twins targeting Slytherin, your House has more than its fair share of gits and tossers in it. (I won’t name names.)_

_I see two reasons why I still surprise you. The first is that Purebloods know nothing about the Muggle world (which is a mistake, I think). Anyway, you know nothing about Muggles, so you keep being surprised by what Muggle-raised students (like me) and Muggle-born students (like Hermione) do at Hogwarts. The second reason I surprise you is that I alone have the special work of fighting and killing Voldy, and this sometimes makes me do surprising things._

_Speaking of “special work,” I have a fight-Voldy plan that I want to carry out before 1st September, but before I do this work, I want to announce my betrothals to you and to Hermione. (This way, if worst comes to worst, I can count on two people coming to my funeral!)_

_You ask me, “Why me?” Why don’t I seek to marry Susan Bones, or Lavender Brown or one of the beautiful Patil twins? It helps your case that someone you know, wrote you a letter that said that “Harry Potter is a good bloke and quite lovable.” But more than this, E.H. wrote to me, and wrote something quite flattering about you:_

_“She listens. I say my words, then she tells me, in her own words, what I just said, then she tells me, again in her own words, why what I just said is important to me. Then, Harry, half the time she explains to me why I’m a pillock because of what I just said. Oh, well.”_

_Daphne, these words shoved you to the head of the queue. Professor McGonagall and Hermione sometimes don’t listen to me, and Ron Weasley, Molly Weasley and Dumbledore_ never _listen to me, and it’s quite frustrating to me._

_Oh yes, one final thing: Your father asked for a paragraph in the betrothal contract, that for the first year after signing, either you or I could end the betrothal with no money paid or other penalty suffered. I’m sure he was worried you’d discover that you and I weren’t compatible. Well, I actually asked to take that one-year no-penalty period further, to three months before the wedding (which I figure will happen in June of 1998, just after Hermione, you and I are handed our N.E.W.T. scores and we leave Hogwarts). So until sometime in March of 1998, you’re not locked into anything permanent with me, no matter that your close, close relative wrote such nice things about me._

When Harry finished writing his letter to Daphne, he opened a window in the Burrow, Hedwig flew in, Harry attached the letter to Hedwig’s leg, then Hedwig flew away.

****

**Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Burrow**

Albus Dumbledore called out from the Floo Fireplace, “Hello, Molly, are you at home?”

Molly Weasley rushed from the kitchen into the Floo Room. “Professor Dumbledore, good morning!”

“I’m looking for Harry. Is he here? Or do you know where he is?”

Molly said, “Yes, he’s here. Come through, come through!” She pressed the brick on the Fireplace that allowed Dumbledore to pass through from his Floo Fireplace to hers.

When Dumbledore stepped through, Molly said, “Professor, would you talk to Harry, _please?_ He’s announced he’ll be staying here only two more days, and he’s talking about marrying _two women_ , and neither of them is Ginny!”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he said, “Be sure that I shall speak to him. _Two_ women, you say? I hope Harry is not going _dark_.”

Molly wrung her hands. “Professor, is that possible? Please do _something_ , for the sake of Ron and Ginny—my two youngest children look up to Harry so!”

As Dumbledore was walking from the Floo Room to the kitchen, he saw Hermione Granger rushing down the stairs, a book in hand.

****

“Good morning, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said cordially.

Hermione stopped at the bottom of the stairs and smiled at him. “Good morning, Professor Dumbledore,” she said cheerfully. “Is your day going well?”

Dumbledore let his eyes twinkle. “My day is going quite well. Are you enjoying your visit to the Burrow?”

“I am,” Hermione said, smiling. “Molly’s cooking always is _brilliant_ , and the company of Harry, Ron, Ginny and the twins always is enjoyable. Correction: Ron and Ginny have been a bit,” she paused, “ _irritable_ since last night.” Hermione shrugged.

Molly called out from the doorway to the kitchen, “Harry’s here in the kitchen, Professor. I’ll tell him you want to speak to him.”

“Thank you, Molly,” Dumbledore said to the Weasley matriarch.

Then Dumbledore turned his attention back to Hermione. “Miss Granger, I have received news that concerns me, about Harry.”

Hermione looked puzzled. “Professor, Harry is _fine_.”

“I think not. Whilst it is normal for teenaged boys to have fantasies, it is _not_ normal to indulge some of those fantasies. Harry is talking about holding two weddings; and with your nonmagical background, I trust you will have _no part_ of such a travesty.”

Hermione lost her smile and she crossed her arms. “Professor, since I was thirteen, I have wanted to be Lady Potter. Thanks to Sirius Black and his will, I’ll still become Lady Potter in two years’ time—but another lucky woman will become Lady Black.”

“No need, my dear. Wisdom is needed here. I will persuade Harry to combine the two Houses, thus requiring he marry only once—”

Hermione shook her head. “Are you truly so ignorant of genetics, merely because it’s Muggle science? You Purebloods are inbred, and your ‘wise’ suggestion will only make the problem worse.”

“Oh, my dear Miss Granger, I fear Harry has convinced you to become a party to your own degradation. Alas, he indeed is becoming dark. But I see one way for you to save yourself.”

“What way is that?” Hermione asked sceptically.

“Bow out, and let some other woman endure the snickers that will come from being part of Harry Potter’s harem.”

“ ‘Some other woman,’ you say? Like, oh, _Ginny Weasley?_ ”

“I think Ginny Weasley would make a _fine_ Lady Potter, don’t you?”

Hermione looked at Dumbledore in disgust. “If you don’t know anything about Muggle genetics, I’m _sure_ you don’t know what the Muggle word _fangirl_ means. But that’s how Harry describes Ginny, and he doesn’t, doesn’t, _doesn’t_ want to marry a _fangirl_. Now, I have a question for you, Professor Dumbledore.”

“Yes?”

Now Hermione’s voice was openly challenging: “How does you being the headmaster of a school—which by the way, is _not_ in session now—give you the authority to meddle in Harry’s wedding plans? Or _mine?_ And _how dare you_ try to talk me out of marrying Harry, the most wonderful man I’ve ever met!”

“Miss Granger, Harry is not a man, no matter what the law says. He is still a boy.”

“Only to you, Professor, only to you. Now please excuse me.”

Not waiting for Dumbledore to reply, Hermione started to move away.

“Miss Granger?” Dumbledore said.

Clearly annoyed, Hermione stopped and faced him. Her eyes glared into his.

 _Always before_ , Dumbledore thought, _this girl has been slavishly respectful of authority. What has Harry told her that has changed her attitude so much? I’ll just do a little quick Legilimency_ —

Except that he _couldn’t_. Whenever Dumbledore mind-read Severus, or anyone else who was expert at Occlumency, he picked up thoughts, but those thoughts were a facade. Trying to mind-read Hermione now, Dumbledore picked up _nothing_ —as if he were trying to mind-read a statue.

Dumbledore’s face showed his shock. Right afterwards, Hermione’s scowl changed into a grin. “Yes, Professor?” she said sweetly. “Was there something else you wanted to say to me?”

“Erm, no, Miss Granger. Have a pleasant morning.”

As Hermione happily walked away—she almost _skipped_ away—Dumbledore wondered, _How did Hermione Granger go from having no Occlumency training to being the best Occlumens I’ve ever met?_

Then Dumbledore thought, _I’ll answer that question later. Right now, I need to talk to Harry and find out what he knows about Voldemort’s horcruxes, and_ how _Harry learnt that information_.

****

**Seconds later  
** **In the kitchen of the Burrow**

Dumbledore was surprised when he walked into the kitchen. “Harry, my boy—”

“Albie my bane,” Harry said cheerfully. “It’s a beautiful day outside, and you want to talk to me? Let’s step out back.” Harry stepped over to the kitchen door that led outside to the back garden and to Arthur’s storage shed.

Molly was stirring something at the stove; she turned to glare at the youth. “Harry, where are your manners? Address _Professor_ Dumbledore with respect!”

“Molly.” Now Harry’s voice held no fake cheerfulness. “This man addresses every female student at Hogwarts as ‘Miss.’ He addresses every _other_ male student at Hogwarts as ‘Mister’—even that _punk_ Draco Malfoy is addressed as ‘Mister.’ But me? In five years, this man has _always_ addressed me as ‘Harry’ or “Harry my boy.’ Which is _curious_ , because he’s not my relative, and _certainly_ not my father—”

Dumbledore said testily, “I address you familiarly, _Harry_ , because I’m your magical guardian.”

“No, you are _not_ , and you _haven’t_ been since the minute that Sirius Black’s will came into effect. Come to think of it, you weren’t my magical guardian _before_ Sirius’s will took effect, at least according to what _both_ my parents’ wills said.”

Dumbledore choked. He had gone to much planning and effort to ensure that Harry did not see his parents’ wills until he was twenty-one, or at least seventeen. _Damn_ Sirius Black and _damn_ those goblins!

Harry continued, “I wonder how, despite two wills saying otherwise, the Wizengamot let you become my magical guardian.” Harry pantomimed sliding coins off of his flat left hand, then pantomimed his right hand putting coins in his pocket.

“ _Harry!_ ” said Molly. “Professor Dumbledore is interested only in your best interests.”

“Please remind me of this, Molly, the next time I’m on my broom trying to outfly an angry dragon.”

“Harry my boy,” Dumbledore said in his _I’m so disappointed_ voice, “you can behave better than acting out adolescent tantrums.”

Rather than be put on the defensive as Dumbledore expected, Harry said, “ ‘Harry my boy’—you keep saying those words. Oi, maybe the magical world _is_ quite different from the Muggle world. In the Muggle world, they have a _word_ for a much older man who speaks familiarly to a teenaged boy whom he isn’t related to—and that word is _not_ ‘Professor,’ though it rhymes with it.”

Molly gasped, clearly shocked.

Harry opened the door and stepped into the back garden. Annoyed Dumbledore had no choice but to follow Harry outside.

****

**In the back garden behind the Burrow**

“Harry my boy—”

“Albie my bane,” Harry mockingly echoed.

“What is your problem?” Dumbledore demanded.

Harry laughed. “You want the full list? Sorry, we don’t have time—school starts in seven weeks. I’m just curious, however, how you planned to keep me under your thumb if Sirius’s will hadn’t emancipated me. Were you planning on vanishing calendars near me when the date got close to 31st July 1997, so I’d never know I’d hit my seventeenth birthday?”

Rather than reply, Dumbledore said, “I need to know about Voldemort’s horcruxes. How do you know that there are seven of them? How do you know that your scar is a horcrux? Do you know where the horcruxes are located?”

Harry stared into Dumbledore’s eyes and said, “Here are the answers to your three questions. One, I just know. Two, I just know. Three, yes.”

Dumbledore snapped, “Harry, if we were at Hogwarts, I would give you detention for the rest of the year for that impudent answer!”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe so. But you still wouldn’t have the answers to your questions, would you? It’s _frustrating_ , isn’t it, when there is information you _desperately_ want to know, and the man who has the information withholds it, for some high-handed reason.”

“So what this is, is childish payback? Revenge? I deflected answering _your_ questions, once upon a time, so now you childishly refuse to answer _my_ questions?”

“But Professor Dumbledore, you _want_ to know the answers to your horcrux questions, you don’t _need_ to know. _You_ are not the Chosen One of prophecy, _I_ am. You have no more right to information about the horcruxes than Rita Skeeter has the right.”

“Harry, I _demand_ you tell me about the horcruxes. As leader of the Order of the Phoenix, I am _entitled_ to know this information.”

As Dumbledore said this, he tried a Legilimency probe to dig the answers out of Harry’s mind that Harry refused to say aloud. But Dumbledore mentally heard _nothing_ , just as had happened when he had tried to mind-read Hermione. At the same time as Dumbledore’s mind-reading attempt, Harry frowned.

“Albus, _I_ can play the game too: I _demand_ you tell me what happened to your hand. It sure looks to me like you touched a cursed ring that had a horcrux attached to it, and the curse is killing you. Did you at least destroy the horcrux, so I don’t have to? I’m sorry, my apologies, it’s foolish of me to ask _you_ a question and to expect a straight answer.”

Dumbledore glared at Harry, opened the door and walked into the kitchen.

****

**An hour later, in the Burrow**

Bluegrass _pop_ ped in and handed Harry a letter from Daphne—

_In your last letter, you mentioned fighting Voldy, and you made a joke about Hermione and me attending your funeral. I think I shall cry if such an appalling event ever happens._

_I don’t think that I at sixteen am a good listener. But your quote from E.H. told me how to be one, and I shall definitely work on it in the future!_

_I am amazed and pleased that you gave me twenty-one months to freely end the betrothal if I want to. Ironically, you telling me this makes me_ less _likely to want to end the betrothal. I am starting to think I will_ like _being Mrs Harry Potter Number 2._

_(signed) Daphne_

_P.S. Tracey asked me a question that I didn’t know the answer to, and I sure don’t want to ask Mum what is the “polite” way to ask this. I’ll just blurt it out: Will you order Hermione and me to have sex together whilst you watch?_

Harry wrote back to Daphne. His letter said, in part,

_[snip]_

_I in turn think I will enjoy being Daphne Greengrass’s husband._

_[snip]_

_Dumbledore came to the Weasleys’ house today, and both Hermione and I talked with him. First the old man tried to persuade Hermione to henpeck me into combining the Potter and Black lines and marrying only her. When Hermione didn’t buy what he was selling, the old man tried to persuade her to bow out and to let some other girl (for instance, Ginny Weasley) become Lady Potter. Hermione said no to this too. Then Dumbledore tried to mind-read Hermione. A little later, the old man and I got into an argument, and he tried to mind-read me. It turns out that the “special rectangular thing” that I sent you,_ works _. The last time I saw Hermione, she nearly was dancing._

_In answer to your P.S., the answer is no. If I ever gave such an order, Hermione would either roll on the floor laughing, or she’d kill me. But if you two decided to go at it_ voluntarily _, would I want to watch? I’m a bloke—do the maths._

****

**That evening, at dinner**

All day, Harry had been briefly visited many times, as his law firm’s house-elf _pop_ ped-in with brief parchments that contained contract terms for Harry’s betrothal contracts with Hermione and with Daphne.

This created problems for Harry.

On Harry’s first day at the Burrow, the house-elf had suddenly appeared during a Quidditch game; on Harry’s second day at the Burrow, the house-elf had interrupted a chess game with Ron. Both times that Ron’s fun had been spoilt by the lawyers’ house-elf, Ron’s ears had turned red, but Ron had kept quiet.

But Harry knew it was not in Ron’s nature, when he was angry, to keep quiet for long.

Now at the Weasley dinner table, after Harry handed the parchment back to the house-elf who then _pop_ ped himself gone, Ron said, “ _Bloody hell_ , Harry. Maybe you _are_ turning dark like Dumbledore says.”

“ _Professor_ Dumbledore,” Molly and Hermione said together.

“Bloody hell _back_ , Ron,” Harry said. “ _Professor_ Dumbledore dumped some _dragon dung_ in my lap at the end of term, and I’m trying to deal with it. And believe it or not, becoming betrothed to Hermione and Daphne is _one_ of the ways I’m dealing with it.”

Ron crossed his arms. “You say ‘believe it or not’? Well, I _don’t_ believe there is a _good_ reason for you turning into a _wanker_ who marries Hermione and a Slytherin bitch, no matter _what_ Dumbledore told you! And why haven’t you confided to _me_ , your best mate, whatever it was that Dumbledore said?”

“What a bloody surprise, Ron, you don’t believe me! Tell me, are you _still_ telling everyone who’ll listen that I put my name in the Goblet, after I told you a hundred times that I _didn’t?_ ”

Ron looked embarrassed.

Harry pressed on. “You want to know what Dumbledore told me? Here it is. Before I was born, Sybill Trelawney spoke a prophecy to the headmaster—”

“Trelawney, that _barmy drunk?_ And you believe her? _Ha!_ ”

Harry ignored that. “The prophecy says that sometime in the future, Voldy and I will fight to the death, and I’m the _only_ person who can kill him—”

Harry had to pause then, as everyone else at the table (except for Ron) gasped in shock. Harry could not bring himself to look at Hermione’s face.

“—but the prophecy doesn’t _guarantee_ I’ll kill Voldy. _I could die!_ ”

Now everyone at the table (except for Ron) _moaned_.

Ron said, “So ‘Poor me, I might die’ gives you the right to marry two women? Why not _three?_ Or _four_ —marry _both_ Patils? Or marry a cute _firstie?_ ”

Harry paused before he spoke.

****

Young Harry sighed. He remembered what elderly Harry had written about future Ron and future Hermione—when the couple had divorced in 2017, and future Harry had finally been forced to choose between his friends, the friendship of future Harry with future Ron had withered. After Hermione’s funeral in the 2060s, apparently elderly Ron and elderly Harry had lost contact altogether.

Young Harry felt _fiercely_ conflicted now. Harry _needed_ a male friend, and Ron had met that need for five years. But not only was Ron “scheduled” to desert Harry and Hermione next year—elderly Harry had been scathing in his description of the incident—but young Harry was only two years past Ron accusing Harry of lying and cheating his way into the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and young Harry _still_ was angry at Ron because of the false accusations.

****

Now Harry looked at Ron. “Tell me something, ‘best mate’: Did you just say that I might be _sexually_ interested in eleven-year-old girls because _you spoke without thinking like you usually do_ , or do you actually believe such?”

George said, “Ronald, think carefully before you answer him.”

Ron, to give him credit, paused before speaking.

When Ron spoke, he said, “Look, you’re the ‘Boy Who Lived,’ right? How many offers for sex have you gotten since you came to Hogwarts that you haven’t told Hermy and me about? Dozens, maybe _hundreds_ , I bet. So if you said ‘I want two wives,’ you’d get _volunteers_ , right? Bloody hell, _Ginny_ wants to volunteer!”

“Damned straight,” Ginny declared, glaring at Hermione.

Ron continued, “But if you’re going to marry Hermione, you’ll want a pretty girl to balance things out”—Hermione gasped in outrage—“so yeah, I guess I can understand ‘the Ice Queen.’ But when the girl hits thirty, her looks start to fade; but if you marry a girl who’s five years younger than you, you get five more years before wrinkles on your wife make her _ugly_.”

All the other Weasleys looked gobsmacked. No redhead spoke.

Hermione said, “I wish to say, right here, right now, that if Voldy _does_ kill Harry and I’m marriageable again, there is _no fucking way in hell_ that I will ever marry _you_ , Ronald Bilius Weasley.”

Hermione stood up, walked over to Ron, _slapped_ him, then returned to her seat.

Harry stood up. “Lord Weasley, Lady Weasley, I thank you for your hospitality, but I think I’ll be leaving now. George and Fred, good luck with your joke shop. Ron, you and I are _done_. If you try to sit in my compartment on the train, I’ll tell you to leave— _loudly_ , if I need to.”

Hermione stood up as well. “What Harry said. If Harry’s leaving, I’m leaving. To _most_ of you, thank you for making me feel welcome here.”

Two minutes later, Harry and Hermione had packed their respective trunks and were standing at the bottom of the stairs. Harry called Dobby. _Pop_.

Molly tried to talk Harry out of leaving; Arthur and the twins stayed silent. Ginny wept. Ron looked angry.

Harry and Hermione each took one of Dobby’s hands, and they were instantly _pop_ ped to just inside the front door of Hermione’s house. Harry’s last sight of the inside of the Burrow was Ron’s anger-red face.


	11. Harry Calls a Meeting

**Sunday evening, 14th July**

At Hermione’s house, Harry spoke briefly with Emma Granger, and with a noticeably reserved Daniel Granger. Daniel became a little more friendly when Harry and Hermione told how they had ended a five-year friendship after Ron had insulted Hermione (and Harry).

Then Harry got Dobby to _pop_ him back to his bedroom in Privet Drive. When Harry went downstairs, he discovered that there were no relatives in the house and that Vernon’s car was gone. Harry guessed that the Dursleys were taking him seriously and were out house-hunting.

For the next half-hour, Harry moped, blaming himself for somehow not preventing the disaster with Ron. Then Dobby _pop_ ped in, with a freshly-written note from Hermione—

“I know you, Harry. You’re in your room alone, thinking this whole disaster with Ron is somehow your fault. YOU ARE NOT TO BLAME FOR WHAT HAPPENED TODAY! Ron is a git, much of the time, and Ron was especially git-ish today, end of story. I love you, Harry, believe this.”

Hermione’s loving note ended Harry’s gloom, and he was able to think clearly. And when Harry thought about the whole situation clearly, he realised: _I’ve been friends with the wrong boy_. So Harry sat down and wrote a letter to Neville.

****

Dear Neville,

I assume that you’re taking a break from the Longbottom family greenhouse in order to read this letter.

The Golden Trio is now the Golden Duo. Today Hermione and I were visiting the Weasley house, and Ron spoke horrid insults to both Hermione and me that we each could not forgive, so we ended our friendship with him. Ron at his best was a fine friend to have, but I finally quit trying to overlook the faults of Ron at his worst.

As I have been thinking over the last five years, a realisation has hit me: You were the good friend that I always wanted Ron to be, but you did your friendship _quietly_. Looking back, I see that I took you for granted, and I apologise for this. I am sorry I was not a better friend to you.

Why I am writing: to ask if you want to be a better friend to me, and to ask how I can be a better friend to you.

(signed) Harry

P.S. Thanks for having my back at the Department of Mysteries.

P.P.S. Do you still have Trevor, your toad?

****

Neville wrote back within minutes, stating that yes, he ‘would be excited’ to be better friends with Harry. Neville made no requests or demands about how Harry could be a better friend to him. (P.S. Trevor had died in third year.)

Harry wrote back, “Brilliant! Erm, there is something I need to explain to you, the next time I see you in person. It’s about the prophecy orb that you accidentally dropped at the DOM, that gave a prophecy about Voldemort and ‘Harry Potter(?)’ ”

****

**The next morning (Monday, 15th July)  
** **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

School was not in session, so the professors’ workdays were different that during the other ten months of the year. The professors—of those who were not outside Scotland on holiday—met in the Great Hall for meals; but otherwise, each professor was free to fill his or her hours however (s)he wished.

Filius Flitwick was in his “experiments” classroom, practicing some spells that were written-up in the latest issue of _The Journal of Muggle-Mimic Charms_. At the moment, Flitwick was trying to get a 16-inch-by-12-inch piece of white paper, which had been sticky-charm attached to a wall, to display a pensieve memory two-dimensionally.

So involved was Flitwick in his work that it took him a moment to realise that someone had walked into the room: Severus Snape. The Potions professor was holding a folded parchment letter in his hand.

Snape held out the letter. “Filius, please read this, then I wish to ask you a favour.”

Seconds later, Flitwick squeaked, “Harry Potter sent _you_ a letter?”

Snape said drily, “What is _in_ the letter is even more ... startling.”

When Flitwick had read the letter, he said, “Is this prophecy one that Sybill spoke?”

“Yes, though I’m told she doesn’t remember those minutes of her life.”

“And the prophecy is about Voldemort and Harry Potter?”

“It also could apply to Mr Longbottom, who was born on 30th July, one day before Mr. Potter.”

“And Harry knows the prophecy whilst Voldemort doesn’t, but he desperately wants to?”

“Yes.”

“And Harry has told you the prophecy, so now you can tell Voldemort, but Harry is hoping that you _won’t_ tell Voldemort?”

“Exactly. But Mr Potter cannot stop me if I do tell. Mr Potter has given me a free choice.”

Flitwick asked, “So how do I fit in? What is the ‘favour’ you want from me?”

“I ask you to do a surgical Obliviate on me. I want to remember receiving the letter and reading the letter, and I can recall all of the text of the letter, _except_ for the prophecy. Remove all of the written text of the prophecy that is in the letter, from my mind. Make it so that Voldemort, even with all his skills at reading minds, cannot pull this one piece of knowledge from my brain because the knowledge no longer is there. Now, the Dark Lord knows I have heard part of the prophecy _spoken_ ; so I wish to remember the _spoken_ form of the prophecy, but not the written form contained in the letter.”

Flitwick grinned. “Oh, I _love_ surgical Obliviates—planning them is such a fun challenge! Why don’t you take a seat, and give me some time to plan this out.”

Ten minutes later, Flitwick had a plan. One minute and four identical surgical Obliviates later, Snape could not write down even one word of the prophecy that was part of the letter that Flitwick still held in his hand.

When both Flitwick and Snape were satisfied that the prophecy was erased but no other memories were, Flitwick said to Snape, “Erm, do you realise, if I give you your letter back and you reread it, you’ll remember the prophecy again?”

“Why do you think I have not asked for the letter back?” Snape asked drily. “No, I want you to share it with all the other professors, _except_ for the headmaster.”

“Because he already knows the prophecy, since he was the person whom the prophecy originally was spoken to?”

“No, because of his fetish for secrecy. If the _headmaster_ knew that _you_ knew the prophecy, in an instant he would Obliviate the knowledge from your mind—and he would not work a _surgical_ obliviation.”

“Understood, I’ll show this to all the faculty except Albus. I’ll be _sure_ to show this letter to Sybill, because I love irony.”

“A good plan. Thank you for your assistance.” Snape walked towards the door.

“Severus?” Flitwick said.

Snape stopped, with his hand on the door lever.

Flitwick said, “Severus, you are making quite a wise use of your ‘free choice.’ If Lily were alive, I think she would applaud you for this.”

Snape made a tiny nod, which could mean any of several things, then he walked out the door.

****

**An excerpt from elderly Harry’s letter to his fifteen-year-old self**

The life you’ve led up till now has taught you to give the other person whatever they demanded of you, and to never speak up for yourself.

Let’s face it, if you were to say “Give me what I need” or “Here’s what I want from you” before now, Uncle Vernon would beat you up, Snape would assign detentions, Molly would lecture you about what you _should_ be doing instead, and Dumbledore would tell you that he, not you, knows what is best for you. Ron would throw a tantrum in which somehow _he_ was the victim.

It _seems_ that placating the people who are pushier than you is a winning tactic: you avoid arguments. But this tactic comes with a cost.

Think back to all the times at Grimmauld Place when you watched how Sirius and Molly acted near each other. Seeing Molly treat Sirius like a misbehaving schoolboy, and Sirius accepting such demeaning treatment, made you uncomfortable, but you didn’t have the words to explain why this bothered you so much. Watching Molly decide what would be cooked in Sirius’s kitchen, and decide who would clean what rooms in Sirius’s townhouse, also unsettled you. Watching Dumbledore in Sirius’s townhouse basically give orders to your godfather, and Sirius accepting this, also made you uncomfortable—though again, you didn’t have the words to explain why.

But decades later, I’ve figured out the words. It turns out that the fact that Sirius was clearly miserable, because of his mistreatments, was only part of what was bothering you.

What also was bothering you was the feeling that the pushing-about of Sirius by Molly and Dumbledore was unnatural and not how the world should work, the same feeling you’d get if you walked outside and saw that the sun were purple.

Let me tell you what was unnatural about what you were seeing. Sirius owned Grimmauld Place, which gave him a _responsibility_ for making the place run smoothly, and this in turn gave him the _authority_ to command there. _Authority follows responsibility, as night follows day_. In Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore didn’t have authority merely because he was pushier than Sirius, nor did Molly have authority just because she was pushier than Sirius. Those two should have deferred to Sirius because it was _he_ who had the true authority in Grimmauld Place, but all three of them acted otherwise, which was strange to watch.

What is my point here? I’ve told you that _eventually_ I fought Voldemort and killed him, but the process took way too long. By the time of the Battle of Hogwarts, the Death Eaters had taken over both the Ministry and Hogwarts, and many Muggle-borns had died—some of them were children who did not know they were magical and had never heard of Hogwarts. I sent you this cross-time letter because I want Voldemort dead much sooner than “scheduled,” since his much-earlier death will save many lives.

The biggest way I’ve moved up the date of Tom Riddle’s death is to tell you where all the horcruxes are, so that you don’t waste valuable time looking for them.

But there is one other way to fight Voldemort more effectively: _Stop being everyone’s milquetoast_. Between the time Dumbledore told me the prophecy and the time I killed Voldemort, way too much of my life was spent being undermined by my supposed allies, and “nice bloke” Harry let it happen. But what happened to _me_ , I shall explain how to prevent it happening to _you_.

My advice, in four words? _Be firm with underminers_.

Authority follows responsibility, remember; and the prophecy gives you the _responsibility_ to kill Voldemort. Since the Order of the Phoenix was created to defeat Tom Riddle and his Death Eater minions, you have _authority_ over the Order—if you _assume_ this authority. _Because of the prophecy, it is your place, and nobody else’s, to give orders to the Order_. When Dumbledore, Molly, Snape and Dung push you, _push back_ , resisting the urge to shut up and to do as you’re told.

Once you’ve taken over the Order—

Here’s my strong suggestion: If the Order still is meeting at Grimmauld Place, use your ward ledger to lock out most or all of the Undermining Four.

My second piece of advice: Whenever you run into Death Eaters, you are fighting men who are murderers by definition. Don’t stun the bloody wankers, kill them (or at least cripple them harshly). _Learn from history_. History says the cowardly Wizengamot is looking for any flimsy excuse _not_ to punish Death Eaters, after the battles have ended; so it’s up to you to neutralise as many Death Eaters as possible on the battlefield.

You, my fifteen-year-old self, wants to shy away from this advice. You don’t like hurting anyone, even Draco (who richly deserves it), and you suspect you will hate knowing you’ve killed people. But killing Death Eaters is what you must do, because everyone around you will take their cue from you. If you act prissy just to salve your conscience, the Death Eaters will come back _again_ , and Muggle-borns will die. This was what happened to me: I was a nice bloke in 1998 who went too easy on captured and surrendered Death Eaters; and Muggle-borns were killed by Death Eaters in 2003.

My last piece of advice: Once it is you who commands the Order of the Phoenix, don’t let Tom Riddle make the choices and take the actions, then you react as a nice bloke would. Instead, _surprise_ him, take the fight to him, and let _him_ react to _you_.

****

Young Harry thought about what elderly Harry had written. Then Harry himself began to write.

Minutes later, Harry called Kreacher to him. After the old house-elf _pop_ ped in and was listening respectfully, Harry held out two parchments. “This first parchment is a list of most of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, whom I want you to show a written message. You’ll be pleased to know that Mundungus Fletcher, Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore are _not_ on this list—”

“They’re troublemakers,” Kreacher grumbled.

“—and notice that Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger have been added to the list, at the bottom. Don’t visit Hermione if any Muggles other than her parents are there.”

“Kreacher obeys thoughtful Muggle-raised master.”

“And here’s the message I want you to share. _Ahem_ , ‘Lord Potter-Black, Harry Potter, calls a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix at Sirius Black’s former home. Date is Tuesday, 16th July, and the time is 7 p.m.’ ” When people ask you, Kreacher, you don’t know what the meeting is about, and you’ve been ordered not to guess. Any questions?”

Kreacher said—amazingly, _without_ sarcasm—“Kreacher lives to serve the House of Black.” Then the house-elf disappeared.

Harry thought, _Well,_ this _part was easy. Of course, when Dumbles figures out that I’ve called a meeting of the Order and he hasn’t been invited, he will_ go spare _—and then some_.

****

**Not quite 1-1/2 days later  
** **Tuesday, 16th July, 6:50 p.m.  
** **The Floo Room, Number 12 Grimmauld Place**

Harry, Neville and Hermione were standing by the Floo Fireplace, waiting to greet the regular Order of the Phoenix members as they arrived.

Harry was wearing dress robes. Admittedly, the robes were his Yule Ball dress robes, sized bigger; but Hermione had told him minutes ago, “You look like a quite dashing magical lord.” Hermione’s cheeks had been pink when she had said this.

Now Hermione said, “Neville, why are you here? Are you going to be fighting Voldemort now? Harry and I have wanted to join the Order of the Phoenix, but the adults wouldn’t let us, or even the twins who are two years older than Harry and me, join up. So why are you here?”

Neville blushed. “I’m here because I pretty much need to be here. Last night, Harry showed me a prophecy about Voldemort and him, and the prophecy could be about me too.”

Hermione said, “A prophecy? A _real_ prophecy, not some silly divination?”

Someone was stepping through the floo. Harry said to Hermione, “I’ll explain later about the prophecy.”

The first Order member to step through the Floo Fireplace was Arthur Weasley. Arthur said solemnly, “Lord Black-Potter, thank you for allowing myself, my wife, and our twin sons into your home.”

Which Harry thought was an odd thing to say, because the other three Weasleys had not arrived yet.

Arthur continued, “I have a request to make of you now: to discuss a topic of importance after this meeting.”

Harry sighed. “Lord Weasley, if you wish to apologise _to Hermione and me_ on behalf of your son Ronald, save your breath. That ship has sailed.”

Arthur said, “I ask that you give Ron one more chance.”

Harry snapped, “This _was_ Ron’s ‘one more chance’! If I were any kind of person other than a _milquetoast_ , I would have ended my friendship with Ron during fourth year.”

Hermione nodded. Arthur looked puzzled.

Harry took a calming breath, then explained, “Fourth year was a year of terror for me. From 31st October till the following June, I was, every day, terrified of dying. _Terrified every day_ —you can’t imagine what that was like. In the lead-up to the Second Task, I also was scared of _someone I cared for_ ”—Harry gave Hermione a sideways glance—“drowning. But as horribly bad as all that could be, fourth year was actually worse, because _everyone_ at school shunned me after I supposedly had ‘cheated’ by somehow putting my name into the Goblet of Fire. Only your twin sons, and Hermione and Neville here, still acted friendly towards me, whilst the entire rest of the school was scornful to me. Ask the twins or Ginny sometime, to tell you about ‘Potter stinks’ buttons. And _why_ was almost the entire student body convinced that I had _cheated_ my way into becoming a Tri-Wizard champion? Because my supposed ‘best mate’ was telling everyone that this was what I’d done, and he would know, right? Your _git_ son actually flew into one of his red-eared rages when I wouldn’t ‘confide’ to him how I’d supposedly pulled off the trick!”

By now, Harry’s right hand had clenched into a fist; he consciously opened his hand. “So fair warning: on the first of September, if Ron tries to stroll into our train compartment as if all is forgiven, I will publicly humiliate him instead of allowing him in. I _owe_ Ron a public humiliation.”

Hermione said, “Before the Yule Ball, Ron said several times that I would never get a date because I was too ugly. Plus, how many times during the past five years did Ron try to _order_ me to do his homework for him? So you need not waste time trying to apologise about Ron to me either. Harry and I _are done_ with Ronald Bilius Weasley.”

Professor McGonagall, who had just stepped out of the floo, caught Hermione’s words, and her eyebrows shot up. But all she said was “Lord Black-Potter, Lord Weasley, Miss Granger, Mr Longbottom, good evening,” then she left the Floo Room at an unhurried speed.

Arthur looked unhappy, but plodded on. “There still remains one topic I wish to discuss. Lord Black-Potter, you are now the Lord of two houses, but has anyone talked to you about what being the Lord of a wizarding house requires? Normally, one’s father, the current Lord, gives this talk to his Heir—but James couldn’t, and Sirius probably didn’t think he needed to, before he died. So I wish to give it.”

By now the twins had stepped through the floo, and were standing behind their father. George said, “Lord Black-Potter, our father wants to give you a _quite special_ version of ‘the Birds and the Bees Talk.’ ”

Fred said, “When a man and his Ancient House love each other lots—”

“Not now, lads,” said Arthur.

Molly stepped through the floo then; _immediately_ she glared at Harry and huffed, “ _Harry!_ You forgot to invite Professor Dumbledore to this meeting. That’s _disrespectful_ of you—shame, shame! Fortunately I fixed this for you, and Professor Dumbledore will be along in a few minutes.”

Harry thought, _No way will I try to have an important conversation with Arthur whilst Molly is trying to butt in_. Aloud, Harry said, “Lord Weasley, how about tomorrow I meet you at your office at the Ministry, then we talk over lunch?” _With “Howler Molly” nowhere near us_ was Harry’s unspoken additional sentence.

****

After the four Weasleys left the Floo Room for the dining room, Harry asked Neville, “How do I block someone from coming through, and how do I end a floo-call?”

Neville blinked. “You want to lock _Dumbledore_ out of visiting you? But he’s the leader of the Light!”

Hermione shook her head. “We know better, Neville.”

Flustered Neville said, “Erm, all right, look for a brick in the fireplace that has an indentation that is the same size and shape as your Lord Black ring....” Neville instructed Harry about how to be a hardarse about his Floo Fireplace.

Meanwhile, Order of the Phoenix members continued to arrive. They spoke briefly with Harry, looked curiously at Neville and at Hermione, then headed towards the dining room.

At 7:12—Dumbledore as usual was showing up late so that he could make a grand entrance—Dumbledore fire-called. Within the Floo Fireplace, Dumbledore’s green-flames face said, “Harry my boy, something is wrong with the floo connexion, and people there are waiting on me. Do whatever Head of House tricks you need to do so I can come through.”

Harry said, “Albus, I’m using my ‘Head of House tricks’ to lock you out. I’m taking over the Order.”

“Harry, I am growing weary of coddling your teenager tantrums and snits. You called a meeting without discussing it with me _at all_. Remember, _I_ am the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, not _you_. Now _let me come through!_ ”

“No, Albus, you _were_ the leader of the Order, but only till the prophecy’s Chosen One came of age. This now has happened. I downgrade you now to merely an _advisor_ —and you need to hear this, most of the advice you’ve given me in the past has been _rubbish!_ ”

Dumbledore started to blather a reply, but Harry wasn’t allowing it. Harry said, “Ending floo-call! Permission to enter refused!” Then Harry stood up straight and jammed his Lord Black ring into the indentation in the brick. Then Harry _intended_ for Dumbledore to be gone, gone, gone. Within a second, Dumbledore was gone and the green flames disappeared.

Neville whistled. “Wow, I would expect you to talk to _Draco Malfoy_ like this, but _Professor Dumbledore?_ ”

Harry shrugged. “Draco has never pretended to be anything other than my enemy, but the ‘kindly grandfather’ actually has caused me much more harm.”

Then Harry squared his shoulders, and looked at Hermione, then Neville. “Shall we three walk in there now, so I can tell the Order I’m staging a whatchamacallit?”

“ _Coup d’etat_ ,” said Hermione.

****

**Seconds later  
** **In the dining room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place**

When Harry and the two other teens walked into the dining room, he saw that an empty seat had been left for him at one end of the table, as he expected. The seats on either side of him that he had reserved for Neville and for Hermione were both empty, as he expected. The meeting had more attendees than chairs, so many people were standing around the table, as he expected.

What Harry was _not_ expecting was that there was an empty chair at the far end of the table.

As Harry, Hermione and Neville sat down, Harry said, “Thank you for coming. For those who don’t know them, with me are my friends, Neville Longbottom, the Longbottom Heir, and Hermione Granger, first-generation witch who has been dubbed ‘the brightest witch of her age.’ Now let me start the meeting with—”

Molly said, “Harry, don’t be disrespectful! We _can’t_ start the meeting till Professor Dumbledore shows up.”

Harry made himself speak calmly. “Molly, Dumbledore _isn’t_ showing up; I locked—”

 _Pop_. Dumbledore appeared, with a tea-towel-dressed house-elf clutching his eggplant-purple robes. “Thank you, Twiggy,” Dumbledore said, and the Hogwarts house-elf _pop_ ped away. Dumbledore began to stroll over to the empty chair, saying as he walked, “Give me a moment, people, and I’ll start—”

“ _Kreacher!_ ” Harry yelled.

 _Pop_. Kreacher appeared.

Harry said, “Kreacher, Dumbledore is an uninvited intruder here. Get him gone. If another elf brings him here, _instantly_ get him gone again.”

 _P-pop_. Kreacher vanished, and Dumbledore vanished out of his chair.

The dining room was completely silent, until—

A clean-shaven old man, who was standing next to the Weasley twins, muttered, “Seems to me the young man has turned _dark_. Or do they just not teach manners to the youngsters these days?”

Arabella Figg glared at him. “Elphias, if Har—Lord Potter is angry at Professor Dumbledore, he has _damned_ good reason to be.”

McGonagall said, in her _students are stupid_ voice, “Mr Doge, Lord Black-Potter has the right to deny _anyone_ entrance to his own home, without explanation.” Then she stared at Harry and added, “Though I hope an explanation shall be given to us in the case of Professor Dumbledore’s forcible ejection, and given soon.”

Tonks looked confused. “What just happened?”

Harry thought, _“Be firm with underminers,” elderly Harry told me_. Aloud, Harry said, “I chose not to invite the Hogwarts headmaster, but Molly Weasley invited him as if she had any right to. Then Dumbledore demanded I let him pass through the floo, I told him no, and he decided he’d just show up anyway, brought by house-elf. Memo to self: Talk to Gringotts tomorrow, because there’s a security hole in my wards.”

Molly’s face was turning red. “Young man, you need to—”

Harry thrust his hand up, palm out, in a _Stop!_ gesture. “Arthur, you and you wife are my guests, in _my_ house; you are not my parents. Muzzle your wife or send her home. Molly, I am not Sirius Black, and I _will not accept_ you treating me like you treated him.”

Harry took a calming breath, as Hermione laid a soothing hand on his arm.

Then Harry stood up, and pulled a few inches of parchment from his pocket. “Everyone, show of hands. How many people know me only as ‘that short, skinny lad with glasses and the funny-looking scar, who somehow keeps getting in fights with Voldemort?’ ”

Almost every hand went up. Hermione (whose hand was down) said, “You’re so much more than that list, Harry.”

Harry said, “Another raise-your-hand question. I know every person in Wizarding Britain has heard of the ‘boy who lived,’ who somehow killed Voldemort, sort of, when he was fifteen months old. Be honest now: How many of you wonder why anyone should care about that boy’s life now, as a teenager?”

About half the people in the room raised their hands.

George Weasley said, “I figure that your fifteen-month-old self invented some ultrapowered shield charm that made you AK-proof, and I want to be in the room when you teach this spell. I’d accept a few lightning-bolt scars on my forehead if it meant I could laugh at Death Eaters.”

Fred said, “A few lightning-bolt scars on your forehead would improve your looks, brother.”

Harry said, “For those who are wondering, ‘Why bother with Harry Potter?’, I will answer your question. You see, I was born on 31st July, and this, along with my mad scar, make me the subject of a prophecy.”

Harry brought up the parchment he had been holding, and began to read aloud: “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...”

When Harry was done reading, he tossed the parchment onto the middle of the table. “Anyone who wants to, feel free to read the prophecy for yourself.”

Hermione turned to Harry, and her eyes were shiny with tears. “Oh Harry, this is _true_ about you?”

He shrugged. “It’s been true since _literally_ the day I was born.”

Harry looked around the room again. “For those who don’t have poetry in their soul, let me translate what the prophecy says: One day, Voldemort and I will have a fight to the death. I will have an advantage over him, ‘power the Dark Lord knows not,’ but I’m not guaranteed to win. _I could die_. But until Tom Riddle and I have this fight to the death, any Death Eater who tries to kill me will die whilst I live, and any Auror or Order member who tries to kill Voldemort will himself be killed, whilst Voldemort survives.”

Harry looked around the room, at faces that were in every case older than his own (even if only by a day). “I called you here to tell you the prophecy, and to tell you that the prophecy is true and that already it is partly fulfilled—which means that from now on, the mission of the Order of the Phoenix changes greatly.”

Harry took a breath and added, “Another thing that will change with the Order of the Phoenix is its leadership. From now on, I, not Albus Dumbledore, am in charge.”


	12. No More Mr Nice Bloke

Harry said, “...From now on, I, not Albus Dumbledore, am in charge.”

“No you are _not_ , young man!” Molly yelled. “Professor Dumbledore still is in charge until he dies, and his replacement will _not_ be some pimply-faced boy!”

Hermione said, “You’re a liar. Harry has _one_ pimple on his face.”

“Kreacher,” Harry called quietly. When Kreacher _pop_ ped into the _utterly silent_ room, Harry said, “Please bring me the ward ledger and a Biro pen.”

Someone in the room muttered, “Oh, bollocks.”

A second later, Kreacher _pop_ ped back into the dining room with the ward ledger and the pen. As the two items appeared on the table in front of Harry, Kreacher asked with a cruel grin, “Is Master about to unpermit Mrs Weasel?”

“This remains to be seen,” Harry answered. “Thank you, Kreacher.” _Pop_.

Harry looked around the room. “For those who don’t know, this book is a ward ledger, which says who may enter my house. Of those of you present, only Tonks may Portkey or Apparate in, because only she is listed as part of my family now. The rest of you are listed as ‘Friends,’ which allows you to pass through my floo unless I disallow it for one visit. If someone isn’t on my ‘Family’ list, my ‘Friends’ list or my ‘One-Off Visitors’ list, they feel the full wrath of my wards if they try to enter my house. But what if someone is _already_ in my house, and I scratch-out his or her name?”

Molly’s face, Harry noted, had turned white.

Harry answered his own question. “If I scratch-out someone’s name, they are instantly removed from the townhouse. I’m told that the removal is unpleasant.”

Molly looked panicky.

Harry looked at Molly. “Molly Weasley, you’ve several times spoken to me disrespectfully tonight, and several times I’ve told you I don’t like it. This is your only warning: Speak to me respectfully or suffer the consequences.”

Arthur said, with steel in his voice, “My wife will behave, Lord Black-Potter.”

Harry looked around the room and smiled. “Please, everyone, call me ‘Harry.’ Just remember that A, this is _my_ house that we’re meeting in; and B, the _ridiculous_ rules that the Purebloods have set up say that I, even though I’m the youngest person here, outrank every one of you.”

****

**One second later**

Harry said, “But Molly Weasley raises a point, however rudely spoken, that the rest of you want me to address: Why do I think that Professor Dumbledore should _not_ be the head of the Order, whilst _I_ should be?”

Several heads nodded.

Harry said, “The Order of the Phoenix was founded during the First Voldemort War, to fight Tom Marvolo Riddle and his—”

“Who’s he?” asked Neville, nervously.

Harry answered, “Tom Marvolo Riddle was the birth name of the _half-blood_ , _illegitimate_ _impostor_ who fancies himself now to be ‘Lord Voldemort.’ But Voldy is no more a ‘Lord’ than is Argus Filch’s female cat.”

Almost the entire room looked shocked.

When the mutterings and exclamations died down, Harry said, “The Order of the Phoenix was founded during the First Voldemort War, to fight Tom Marvolo Riddle and his Death Eater minions. The Order’s purpose is _not_ to act as Sirius Black’s prison guards, or as _my_ prison guards; the Order’s purpose is to fight Voldemort.”

A woman’s voice said, “But Dumbledore said...” The woman did not speak the rest of her sentence.

Harry pointed to the parchment with the prophecy written on it (which currently was in Remus Lupin’s hands). “According to the prophecy,” Harry explained, “I’m destined to battle Voldy to the death—this job is not for you, not for Dumbledore, this is _my_ task. Which gives _me_ the authority to command the organisation whose supposed purpose is to fight Tom Riddle. That’s Reason One why I, not Dumbledore, now am in charge of the Order.”

“Wait,” said Mad-Eye Moody, “the Order’s _supposed_ purpose is to fight Tom Riddle?”

“Your _actual_ purpose, judging by how you spend your time, is a combination of guarding prisoners and acting as a debating society.” Harry did not give anyone time to reply to that: “Reason Two why I’m in charge now, the prophecy means that none of you has been in my situation, and Dumbledore has not. I welcome—”

“Professor Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald,” Kingsley Shacklebolt argued.

Harry nodded. “After Dumbledore stepped up. And if he hadn’t, nobody would have pushed him to fight Grindelwald. After all, at the time, Albus Dumbledore was a _mere_ Transfiguration professor.”

Harry grinned at McGonagall.

Harry continued, “But the prophecy says that fighting Voldy to the death is a duty that I cannot skive-off doing—‘neither can live while the other survives.’ The prophecy also says that anyone who volunteers to fight Voldy in my place, will _die_. Dumbledore, I’m sure, _knows_ all this.”

The room was filled with frowns, except for the faces of Hermione, McGonagall and Neville. The two women looked at Harry trustingly, whilst Neville looked thoughtful.

Harry looked at the roomful of people who were looking back at him; Harry thought, _Now I’m about to break a dozen rotten eggs at the garden party_.

Aloud, Harry said, “Reason Three that I, not Dumbledore, is in charge of the Order now? Albus Dumbledore is a thief and a glory-hound, and I _refuse_ to submit to him outside of school.”

Except for Hermione, everyone in the room gasped and/or glared.

****

Molly said, “I don’t believe any of this.”

“What a surprise,” Hermione replied.

Harry said, “Let me tell you a story. About a fortnight ago, the day after Hogwarts sent students home, Gringotts held a reading of Sirius Black’s will. Tonks and Hermione were there, because they were mentioned in the will. I _wasn’t_ there—I’ll tell you why in a minute—but my so-called ‘magical guardian’ Dumbledore _was_ there, even though he wasn’t mentioned in the will at all. Hermione and Tonks, tell everyone what happened at the reading of Sirius Black’s will.”

The two young women told a story of Harry not being present at the will-reading—Dumbledore gave “Harry is busy” as the supposed reason—and the goblin who was reading the will was silenced by Dumbledore whenever the goblin spoke Harry’s name.

Tonks said, “The whole reason that Lucius and Draco Malfoy were there was to find out who was going to be the next Lord Black. Well, nobody except Dumbledore ever heard what the will had to say about this. The Malfoys looked like they wanted to _Avada_ Mr Twinkle-Eyes ten times each, and they didn’t care who’d see them.”

McGonagall chuckled, as Arthur said (with hunched shoulders), “What Professor Dumbledore did was _not right_. The public has a vested interest in the will of a Lord Head of House, so the will should not have been silenced.”

Harry said, “So why wasn’t I there when Hermione and Tonks were? Our esteemed headmaster had put a mail-redirect on _all_ my mail, except for mail from Hogwarts or what my own owl brings me. I’ve never received a single letter from Gringotts in my almost-sixteen years, and I guess Dumbles _was too busy_ to tell me about the will-reading.”

McGonagall said, “But obviously you found out. Did Hermione tell you?”

Hermione shook her head. “Couldn’t. I couldn’t figure out a way to beat the mail-redirect; and whenever I ring him up, his relatives refuse to call him to the telephone.”

Harry said, “I won’t share who or how, but someone let me know about the will-reading. The next day, Hermione and I and one other person went to Gringotts—at the time, Mundungus Fletcher was quote-unquote guarding me in Surrey, so it was easy to sneak out.”

Mad-Eye Moody grumbled, hearing this.

A minute later, Harry was saying, “...So now that I was both emancipated and the Potter Heir, I could claim the Lordship of House Potter. Which I did. Immediately I asked to see my parents’ wills—which Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore had ordered sealed in 1981, because of blarney-blarney. Imagine my surprise when I learnt...”

A minute later, Neville was staring. “You were supposed to _live with me_ after your parents died?”

Harry nodded. “Sirius Black topped the list of my parents’ preferred guardians, but after he acted like a _pillock_ , then was sent to Azkaban, my toddler self should have gone to Longbottom Manor. This didn’t happen. Five days after my own parents died, after Frank and Alice Longbottom were put into comas, I then should have been handed over to Amelia Bones, according to the wills, but I wasn’t. Nowhere did my parents’ wills mention Dumbledore as a guardian, but the wills _did_ mention my Muggle aunt, Petunia Dursley, and her husband. For _those two_ , the wills said, ‘No bloody way do we want our son with that lot!’ Those of you who’ve stood _prison-guard duty_ in Surrey have some idea why my parents wrote this.”

Mad-Eye, Tonks, Kingsley and Hestia all winced.

Harry concluded his story: “Anyway, Dumbledore appointed himself my magical guardian; and a day and a half after James and Lily Potter died, I was living—quote-unquote—with my abusive Muggle relatives. I’ve been with the Dursleys ever since.”

McGonagall, Harry noticed, looked sick.

Elphias Doge said, “Young man, your insinuations are ridiculous! I went to Hogwarts with Albus, and he’s a _good man_.”

Harry said, “ _Is_ he, sir? My parents trusted this man, and they’re dead. Neville’s parents trusted this man, and _they_ are in Saint Mungo’s. Sirius Black trusted this man to clear his name, and my godfather died _still_ being a wanted fugitive for a murder he didn’t commit. _Your classmate_ appointed himself my magical guardian without a flobberworm-hair’s worth of legal authority, he has repeatedly put me in danger, both before and after my Hogwarts letter, and _the goddamn thief regularly stole from my trust vault till I stopped him!_ ”

Molly shook her head. “No. _No_. Professor Dumbledore is a good man. He’s _secretive_ too often, but he’s a good man.”

Harry shrugged. “You’re entitled to your opinion. But myself, not only do I think he’s a bad human being, but he’s a bad _general_ , one I _refuse_ to take orders from. C’mon, the Death Eaters all are _murderers by definition_ , and you’re fighting them with _stunning spells?_ Do you _want_ to die? And have you even _tried_ to track down that lot and to attack them, or are you content to be a strictly reactive force and let _them_ choose when and where fights will happen, and with whom?”

The room went silent for a time. Every face looked gobsmacked.

Finally, Kingsley Shacklebolt said uncomfortably, “We Aurors in the Order have told Professor Dumbledore that his stunners-only policy is unworkable, but he says that everyone deserves a chance to turn from their Dark path.”

“He says this, yes,” Harry said. “Dumbles had the same policy during the _First_ Voldemort War, right? The war that the Light wizards were about to _lose_ , right? Till a fifteen-month-old toddler saved you all. What do these facts tell you? Anyway, Wizarding Britain’s saviour-toddler has grown up, and what _I_ say is—

“The Order is not the same as the Aurors. If the Aurors come across a magical burglar, or someone passing magically-counterfeited money to Muggles, the Aurors _must_ respond, but to presumed-nonviolent criminals. When the Aurors meet magical burglars, the rule is that the Aurors avoid deadly force until the bad wizard tries to kill them. Only then do the Aurors spell-cast to kill; before then, they cast stunners. But the Order of the Phoenix ignores magical burglars; our _sole_ job is fighting Tom Riddle and his mask-wearing thugs—who all are _murderers_ , I remind you. People, it is _stupid_ to let a murderer get one free shot at you. So as soon as you see Death Eaters, try to kill them all.”

Everyone in the room gasped. Even Hermione and Neville were staring at Harry now.

Harry continued, “If you’re unwilling to kill, then go for _crippling_ injury. And if you want to shoot only stunners, _stay home_ —because in a battle with Death Eaters, you’d just be a danger to yourself and to the rest of us.”

Molly said, “Harry, if Professor Dumbledore were here, he would say that your ideas are wrong, wrong, wrong.”

Hermione said, “Then it’s a good thing that Professor Dumbledore _isn’t_ here, I think.”

Neville said thoughtfully, “Harry’s policy sounds harsh—kill every Death Eater you see—but I see the wisdom of it. Because what happens when the war ends and Death Eaters go on trial? What has been proven is that any Death Eaters who _can_ bribe their way to freedom, the Wizengamot _will_ allow to do so. No Death Eaters will die unless _we_ kill them.”

The room went silent again, then Harry saw many nods.

McGonagall said, “ _Ahem_. Changing the subject—sometime in the past fortnight, someone on the Hogwarts faculty showed me a letter that was written by Lord Black-Potter here, that spelled out the full prophecy. Harry, can I ask you when you were told the prophecy?”

“A month ago, the morning after Sirius went through the Veil. Dumbledore showed me a pensieve memory; he had been in the room when the prophecy first was spoken, sometime before Neville or I was born.”

Hermione said, “Wait, the prophecy can apply to _Neville too?_ ”

Harry said, “Yes. He too was ‘born as the seventh month dies,’ and Tom Riddle the orphan made Neville effectively an orphan, which to me counts as ‘will mark him as his equal.’ ”

Everyone in the room was looking at Neville now—some with respect, others in pity.

****

Harry said, “My pardon, Professor McGonagall, you were saying?”

McGonagall replied, “Before we in the faculty learnt about the prophecy, we were puzzled why the headmaster allowed the Boy Who Lived to be beaten; to be starved; to be kept away from all magical friends, both stopping in-person visits and friendly letters; why a year ago, Lord Black, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger were _told not to write_ to Mr Potter after the death of Cedric Diggory, for which Mr Potter blamed himself; why Dumbledore as Chief Warlock did not call for a trial for Sirius Black to clear his name, so that Lord Black could take guardianship of Mr Potter. Why was Harry Potter kept _shockingly_ ignorant of his parents and of his heritage as the Potter Heir? But knowing the prophecy answers those questions.”

Harry said, “It does, but not in a good way.”

McGonagall nodded. “Right now, only Harry Potter here has the power to ‘vanquish’ the Dark Lord; anyone else who battles Tom Riddle now, shall die. This includes Professor Dumbledore, and he knows to avoid fighting Tom Riddle now. But in the great battle between Harry Potter and Tom Riddle, Harry Potter can die too—as the prophecy says, ‘either must die at the hand of the other.’ If Harry Potter dies at Voldemort’s hand, the prophecy is fulfilled, Tom Riddle no longer has only one possible vanquisher, and someone other than Harry Potter can kill the Dark Lord. What I am disgusted to realise is that ‘the leader of the Light’ _has gone to great lengths_ to weaken the Chosen One, both physically and emotionally, and to keep Harry Potter ignorant. The headmaster’s plan, I am convinced, is _to ensure_ that at the great battle, Harry Potter will _die_ and Voldemort will live. Then, so goes my suspected plan, Dumbledore and Voldemort will fight, Dumbledore presumes he’ll win, then Dumbledore will bask in the applause of the adoring crowd again. But this assumes a lot.”

Mad-Eye Moody asked, “You don’t think that if the fight went to Albus and the Dark Lord, Albus would win?”

McGonagall shook her head. “The headmaster has not listened to a word of advice from _anyone_ in seventy years, whilst the Dark Lord invents spells. In this way, the Dark Lord is like Miss Granger’s evil uncle.”

Everyone who knew Hermione well, laughed in surprise when they heard this, but nobody argued the point.

McGonagall continued, “I think that the Dark Lord can outduel the headmaster, because the Dark Lord is much more mentally flexible in some ways. I even think that if Miss Granger were twenty years older, _she_ could outduel the headmaster.”

Harry smirked and said, “All hail Miss Hermione Granger, future spell-inventions mistress _and_ future queen of Wizarding Britain by conquest.”

Hermione blushed red.

Most of the room laughed; however, Elphias Doge and Molly Weasley frowned fiercely.

****

**After the end of the meeting**

Harry still was sitting at the dining-room table. He looked over at Hermione and asked, “Is it possible to figure out information about a Parseltongue spell, by someone who doesn’t speak Parseltongue?”

“I’ll look in the Black family library, after everyone leaves.”

“Don’t forget to get Kreacher to steer you away from booby-trapped books.”

****

Minutes later, only a few people still were sitting at the table; Harry was not one of them. Harry had chased-down Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody.

Harry said, “Mad-Eye, I want the Order to _stop now_ the guarding of my relatives’ house in Surrey. I’m willing to risk Death Eaters showing up at the house, if it means that I can ride someplace on the Knight Bus whenever I want. Let Dung pass out drunk somewhere else than in the Dursleys’ back garden.”

“Erm, sure, not a problem. But remember lad, whenever you’re out and about—”

“I know, Mad-Eye, I know! _Constant_ —”

Mad-Eye, Tonks, Hestia, Harry, Hermione and Neville said it together: “ _Vigilance!_ ”

****

**Ten minutes later, in the Burrow**

Molly Weasley smiled warmly at her floo-caller. “ _Of course_ you may come through, Professor! I have _so much_ to tell you!”

Dumbledore stepped into the Weasleys’ Floo Room, smiling at Molly and at Arthur as he entered. (Arthur, Dumbledore noticed, did not smile back.)

After tea had been offered and been drunk, Dumbledore said to Molly, “I thank you for the offer of a report, but may I take a pensieve memory instead?”

“Certainly, but we don’t have a pensieve to view it in.”

“Not a problem, my dear.”

Dumbledore summoned a Hogwarts elf, who fetched the pensieve in the headmaster’s office, then left. Forty minutes later, when the pensieved Order of the Phoenix meeting ended, the three adults came back to themselves.

Molly said, “I fear Elphias is right, that Harry is turning _dark_. Did you see how _rude_ he was to me? And he was so _disrespectful_ about you.”

Arthur said hesitantly, “ _I_ thought Harry made good points. Such as, up till now, we in the Order have been _dabblers_. ‘Stunners only’ lets us sleep better at night, but it does _nothing_ to hurt the Death Eaters.”

Molly said, “If we _murder_ Death Eaters, we’re no better than they are!”

“Arthur,” Dumbledore said piously, “violence is not the answer.”

Arthur said, “Yes it is, when you face murderers.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Arthur, I am disappointed that you’ve been taken in by Harry’s honeyed words.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “I never have caught Harry in a lie, and I never have suspected him of lying. Of you two, it is _you_ who is the smooth speaker, headmaster, not Harry. Your silver tongue matches Lucius Malfoy’s.”

Then Arthur stared at Dumbledore. “Harry, whom I believe is _not_ a liar, says you’ve stolen from his trust vault. Comment?”

Molly said, “I’m sure Professor Dumbledore had good reasons to take the money.”

Dumbledore smiled disarmingly at both Weasleys. “Expenses came up, as they always do, and I paid them. Harry does not yet understand how the adult world works.”

Arthur said, “Evidently I don’t understand either, because it’s obvious to me that none of the money you took, you spent on healers or mind-healers for Harry. I haven’t forgotten that when Harry visited us, summer after first year, he _cringed_ whenever Molly hugged him. I also remember being shocked how _small_ the boy was for his age. Surely James and Lily didn't intend for their son to grow up in a place where his above-ground bedroom had _bars on the window_.”

“Arthur, you know how the twins exaggerate.”

Arthur’s voice turned cold. “So in the summer of 1992, Harry did _not_ have bars on his bedroom window?”

Dumbledore, eyes a-twinkle, said, “More likely Harry had a window that stuck sometimes, when he tried to open it.”

Arthur said, “Then you’re willing to take a _magical oath, on risk of your magic_ , that in August of 1992, there were _no_ bars on Harry Potter’s bedroom window in Surrey.”

“ _Arthur!_ ” yelled Molly.

Arthur said, “Either the twins are liars, or the headmaster is a liar, or the headmaster was too _negligent_ about Harry’s home care to know whether Harry’s bedroom window had bars or not.”

Dumbledore gave Arthur a _trust me_ smile. “Arthur, I see no need to take a magical oath about Harry’s bedroom window.”

“Then I see no reason to continue your visit, professor. Don’t forget your pensieve when you leave.”

As Dumbledore unhappily stepped through the floo, he heard Molly yell, “ARTHUR, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?”

Dumbledore was in a sour mood. As he stepped into his office at Hogwarts, he thought, _It’s time I had stern words with Minerva, after all the disloyal things she said about me in Harry’s meeting_.

****

**Meanwhile, back in the 12 Grimmauld Place dining room**

Shacklebolt asked to speak to Harry privately; they walked over to stand by the dumbwaiter. But then Harry called Hermione and Neville over; Shacklebolt frowned.

Shacklebolt said, “Minister Scrimgeour has me working in the prime minister’s office—”

Hermione blurted, “The _Muggle_ prime minister? John Major?”

“Who?” said Neville.

Shacklebolt continued, “Officially, I’m an exalted Muggle errand boy; but Mr Major knows that in truth I am his wizard bodyguard if any Death Eaters attack. My point is, between Minister Scrimgeour and myself, Mr Major has been made well aware of events in Wizarding Britain, and Mr Major has,” Shacklebolt paused, “ _concerns_.”

“What sort of concerns?” Harry asked.

John Major thought that the Wizengamot was corrupt (it was), that Cornelius Fudge was an idiot (he was), and Mr Major was not sure that Rufus Scrimgeour was up to the job of being wartime Minister for Magic. (Harry was not sure about Scrimgeour either.)

“...As for the Order of the Phoenix, under Dumbledore,” said Shacklebolt, “the prime minister dismisses us entirely, as ‘lads playing soldier.’ Mr Major scorns Professor Dumbledore’s rule of ‘stunners only.’ ”

Harry asked, “Will his attitude change any, now that I’m in charge? I’m deadly serious about fighting Voldy, but I’m a fortnight away from turning sixteen. I’m definitely a ‘lad.’ ”

“I don’t know how to answer that; I’ve never before met anyone who was the subject of a prophecy. Maybe you’re an ordinary lad who, when the Dark Lord shows up, turns into Superboy.”

“Who’s he?” asked Neville.

Shacklebolt said, “I’m only guessing here, but it’s _possible_ that Mr Major, if he finds you worthy, would offer you assistance from Her Majesty’s government.”

“What kind of assistance?”

“If, say, you knew _exactly_ where the Dark Lord was staying, Mr Major could send an RAF aeroplane to bomb the house into matchsticks. Magical Britain would hate you afterwards, but Voldemort would be dead.”

All three teens nodded.

Harry said, “Thank him for a generous offer, but I won’t accept it. Using Muggle weapons, even a hand grenade tossed at Voldy, is _politically_ unthinkable—Magical Brits would panic that the British Army was planning to invade us.”

Hermione, Neville and Shacklebolt all nodded at this.

Harry continued, “But Kingsley, what you suggested, about the RAF aeroplane flying over a wizard house, has me thinking.”

“ _Oh?_ ” said Hermione. “Care to share?”

Harry grinned. “Not with this many people still in the room. But I have an idea; and _if_ my idea works out, Tommy will be _quite_ dead, _quite_ soon.”


	13. Harry Runs Errands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In canon ( _Deathly Hallows_ Ch. 36), after Voldemort “kills” Harry, Voldemort forces Hagrid to carry Harry’s limp body back to the castle, as a way to mind-phuque Hogwarts’s defenders. Compare this with Daphne’s prediction in this chapter, which requires a troll and a giant spider. Daphne is wrong about the particulars, but right about the emotional impact.

**The next morning (Wednesday, 17th July), at breakfast  
** **The Great Hall, Hogwarts Castle**

No students were present when Dumbledore strode to his golden throne and took his seat. As usual, he was the last to come to the Head Table. In a commanding voice, Dumbledore said, “Minerva, after breakfast, I wish to meet with you privately in my office, to discuss certain _unflattering and disloyal_ remarks you made during the Order meeting that the boy called.”

Minerva slowly turned from Flitwick to face Dumbledore. “ _No_. I will not meet with you privately anymore, because I do not feel _safe_ alone with you. Anything you wish to say to me, _I insist_ you say with at least one other professor present. Also, ‘the boy’ is now Lord Black-Potter—despite your scheming.”

Dumbledore waved that away. “The boy is not ready for such responsibility, and proves it by acting above himself. As for a private meeting between us, Minerva, I must insist.”

“ ‘Insist’ all you want; the answer still is _no_. What do you plan, Albus? A Compulsion potion in the tea you serve to me, or a Suggestibility potion in the tea? Or do you plan to use a _Confundo_ on me? Thanks to Lord Black-Potter’s letter, everyone on the faculty except for Mr Filch, Mr Hagrid and Professor Snape knows the full prophecy, so it would be a waste of time to Obliviate me. But this doesn’t matter, because I won’t give you the opportunity.”

“Minerva, you accuse me of evils such as Tom would do! I am not he.”

“Correct, Albus,” McGonagall said. “Voldemort never tries to dress up his actions with talk about ‘the Greater Good.’ Whereas you’ve _stolen_ from Harry’s trust vault, and I’m sure you’ve told yourself that what you did was a _noble act_.”

From the other faculty members, Dumbledore heard gasps of shock.

“Not to mention,” McGonagall continued in a whisper, “you placed toddler Harry with Lily’s sister Petunia and her family, and this turned out worse than even I feared. For this act of ‘greater good’ cruelty alone, you are a disgusting man.”

****

Dumbledore never did manage to get McGonagall into his office alone. But after breakfast, when the headmaster summoned Snape for a private conference, the potions master sighed but resigned himself to going.

The first few minutes of the meeting passed with Dumbledore ranting about the “humiliations” that Harry had dealt him last night. Throughout Dumbledore’s ranting, Snape listened silently.

Finally, Snape asked, “Was Mundungus at the meeting?”

“What’s _that_ to do with anything?”

“I know _I_ was not invited to the meeting; this is the first I have heard of it. _You_ were not invited; and when you attended despite no invitation, you were thrown out. I have heard Mr Potter—excuse me, Lord Black-Potter—disparage Mundungus before his elevation, so I would be _surprised_ if Mundungus were allowed to enter the townhouse last night.”

“Mundungus wasn’t there in Molly’s memories, no.”

“Which undoubtedly explains why the table and the chairs still were there, instead of the meeting being held in an empty room.” At Dumbledore’s confused look, Snape patiently explained, “I was making a joke. Mundungus is quite free with other people’s property, you must admit.”

“But he’s getting better,” Dumbledore declared.

Snape did not argue with words, but his look said _Are you truly so stupid?_

“Anyway,” Dumbledore said, “the boy should not have threatened Molly if she expressed contrary opinions.”

“Right, Lord Black-Potter should have followed _your_ example instead: Pat on the head everyone who speaks contrary views, then act as if they had never spoken.”

“I should have been at that meeting, Severus. I should have been _chairing_ that meeting.”

“Yet you were not, by Lord Black-Potter’s plan, and the plan showed _cunning_. So what happened at this meeting, other than Lord Black-Potter threatening to unpermit Molly?”

“He told everyone the _full prophecy_. Foolishness! Sixteen people were in that room besides Harry, and they all know the prophecy now. Almost the full Hogwarts faculty knows the full prophecy now, because of Harry’s letter. _Damn_ the boy!”

Snape said, “Yet _I_ , who so far as we know, am the only person amongst the faculty, and the only person in the Order, who has the Dark Lord’s ear, was not invited to hear the full prophecy. This letter that has been making the rounds of the Hogwarts faculty, I truthfully can declare that no other professor has shown it to me. Unless the Dark Lord has a second spy amongst the faculty or a second spy within the Order, Potter still has kept the Dark Lord ignorant, whilst informing people loyal to the Light.”

Dumbledore asked, “The next time you talk to Voldemort, what will you tell him?”

“ _Nothing_. I will tell him _nothing_. I certainly will not tell the Dark Lord that twenty-two people now know the full prophecy who did not know it a week ago, but I am not one of these twenty-two people. Nor will I tell the Dark Lord that Harry Potter stole the Order of the Phoenix away from you, headmaster. The _only_ thing that restrains the Dark Lord’s behaviour is his fear of you—what happens if he decides that you are old, useless and pathetic?”

There was one thing that Snape did not say aloud, during his meeting with Dumbledore, but he definitely thought it: _It seems like Harry Potter no longer is the headmaster’s puppet. Good for him for breaking away. I wish I could do the same_.

****

**Meanwhile, in Greengrass Manor**

At breakfast, Harry’s house-elf had delivered to Daphne a letter, in which Harry had described how his first Order of the Phoenix meeting had gone. Now Daphne was writing back to Harry.

****

Dear Harry,

I laughed when you wrote that Professor McGonagall said that in twenty years, Hermione will be a better witch than Dumbledore is a wizard. I’m sure this is true. But McGonagall’s other statement, that Voldy _right now_ is a better wizard than Dumbledore is, is _frightening_.

Speaking of Voldy, I’ve been thinking about something you wrote in your next-to-last letter: How E.H. defeated Voldy in 1998, but the Death Eaters tried to come back in 2003. This confused you: “How could this happen? Why did they do this? Voldy had been dead five years!” After much thought, I think I have an answer to your questions of that next-to-last letter.

The Death Eaters came back, in that other 2003, because E.H. killed Voldy, but E.H. didn’t kill Voldy’s _mystique_.

Let me explain. Voldy is _theatrical_. The Dark Mark in the sky over a place where his minions have struck, the Death Eaters’ black costumes and their Guy Fawkes-like masks, the black-smoke flying that they do—it’s all done because of the effect it has on onlookers and enemies: to make them feel frightened and helpless.

Imagine for a moment, you killing Voldy—how would you act the next day? Like “just Harry,” right? You’d walk into class like normal; and if the students and professor stood up and clapped for you, you would blush and beg them to stop.

But imagine _Voldy_ killing _you_. I easily imagine Voldy sending a mountain troll to toss your corpse at your friends’ feet, then sending a giant spider to _eat_ your corpse whilst your friends watched helplessly. Voldy would do these things so that your friends would know that Voldy had won and he was cruel, and your friends should feel frightened and helpless.

My point is, Harry, _all the time_ you do brave deeds without ever once thinking “How does this look to other people?” It’s the main reason, I think, why my older self could fall in love with you so deeply. But to defeat Voldy’s mystique, you must create some _theatricality_ of your own, and _your_ theatricality must be better than _his_. What you must do is to not only kill Voldy, but kill him in a way that the day after you kill Voldy, onlookers will be asking themselves, “How could we _ever_ have been frightened of that snake-faced _freak_ , after what Harry Potter did to him?”

(signed) Daphne

P.S. I’m falling in love with you, but I’m nervous telling you this. (Slytherins _don’t_ charge ahead.)

****

When Harry read Daphne’s letter, his first thought was _Becoming theatrical is_ so _much not me_. Harry didn’t think Daphne was wrong in her thinking, he just thought that she was asking of him something that he could not do.

Harry thought, _Yet to “vanquish” Voldemort like the prophecy says, not to merely defeat him, I must destroy his mystique. Hm_.

Then Harry thought, _The Hat almost put me in Slytherin. What would a much more Slytherin-ish Harry be like?_

This required thought.

As for Daphne falling in love with him, this news made Harry grin. He was falling in love with Daphne too, because Daphne was showing herself to be a much nicer person than Harry had figured she was.

****

Along with Harry elf-mailing a quick reply to Daphne, Harry also asked Dobby to deliver a note to Tonks, the metamorphmagus—

“Tonks, please ask your mother”—Andromeda Black Tonks—“to give you some pensieve memories of your mum with older sister Bellatrix, with Bellatrix older than eighteen. Imagine what mischief you could make if you not only could _look_ like Bellatrix Lestrange, you could _talk_ like her too.”

****

When Tonks read Harry’s note, she felt fright—and great relief.

Soon, it was clear, Harry would order Tonks to infiltrate the Death Eaters, posing as Aunt Bella; the pink-haired Auror nearly peed herself with fear as she imagined doing this.

But Voldemort had been back for a little over a year, and how had Dumbledore, as then-leader of the Order of the Phoenix, used Tonks in that time? Except for the Battle at the Department of Mysteries, Dumbledore had used Tonks mainly to “guard” (imprison) Harry at his relatives’ house in Surrey. Tonks felt relief that finally she was about to be tasked with bringing the fight to the Dark Lord.

****

**About lunchtime  
** **Atrium, the Ministry of Magic**

Harry was getting his wand recorded by the Auror, when Harry’s peripheral vision noted a toad-shaped pink blur rushing toward him.

“What are you doing here?” Dolores Umbridge asked, in a cold (but high-pitched) voice.

Harry stared into her eyes and said, “None of your business.”

“Young man, you _will_ tell me your purpose here, or I will throw you out. As Senior Undersecretary, I have this authority.”

Harry raised his voice. “Actually, Miss Umbridge, I should demand to know what _you’re_ doing here. _Why aren’t you in Azkaban Prison?_ ” He heard gasps from people nearby. Harry turned his hand so that the back of his hand, with _I must not tell lies_ scarred into it, faced the Pink Toad.

She said haughtily, “You think they don’t know about this already? Minister Fudge and now Minister Scrimgeour both want _results_ , and they don’t care how I get them.”

“If I showed _my scarred hand_ in the Wizengamot chamber, I think Scrimgeour would care.”

She said quietly, “You will not! If you don’t want to be a _mindless husk_ there in Surrey by the first of September, you will stay silent about everything you know.”

He replied, not at all quietly, “You are referring to your _attempted murder_ of me by Dementors a year ago.”

“ _Ssh!_ ” she said loudly. Again quiet, Umbridge said, “Next time I won’t fail, _if_ I go after you. You would do well to remember the powers I hold, and the danger of displeasing me.”

“Ironic you should say that,” Harry said, grinning.

Then Harry’s grin disappeared. Loudly he declared, “Dolores Umbridge, you are under arrest for threatening the Lord of two Ancient and Noble Houses, House Black and House Potter. _Expelliarmus! Incarcerous! Silencio! Wingardium leviosa!_ ”

People stared as Harry calmly levitated Umbridge’s ropes-constrained, silently-struggling body towards the elevator. Once in the elevator, Harry took Umbridge directly to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Harry immediately handed Umbridge’s wand to the desk Auror. Before Harry would lift the silencing and rope-conjuring spells on “Undersecretary Umbridge” (no _Senior_ ), Harry insisted that the Aurors take memories from him and that they view the memories in a pensieve. Harry stayed there till the Director of the DMLE ordered Umbridge to be thrown into a holding cell—still silenced.

****

**A minute later  
** **At the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects, DMLE**

Harry said to Arthur Weasley, “ _Oi_ , Arthur, I like the new office; congratulations on your promotion. I apologise for missing your lunch hour, but I had to arrest Dolores Umbridge—”

“ _What?_ ”

“—then the Aurors had to view my memories. This took a while, because Dolores has been a quite naughty toad.”

“You got Umbridge _arrested?_ _You_ did?”

“I didn’t ‘get’ her arrested, I arrested her myself. When you’re a Lord Head of House, you can arrest people yourself if they threaten you. She threatened me.”

“How did you know you could do this?”

“I was told this in a quite long letter written by a quite close relative. Anyway, what did you want to talk with me about?”

“I planned to explain to you some of the privileges and responsibilities of being a Lord Head of House, such as attending Wizengamot sessions. But it sounds like you already know some of this.”

“Arthur, I want to hear about this topic from you, I truly do. But I’m not going to give any thought at all to becoming a seat-holder in the Wizengamot until after I have my big fight with the Dark Wanker, and after the Order and I have crushed the Death Eaters.”

Arthur grimaced. “Yes, about that. I support your taking over the Order, though I won’t say this loudly.” _Because Molly would make my life miserable if I spoke up_ went unsaid. “Dumbledore could have asked much more from us, considering the oath we all took, but somehow we haven’t accomplished much.”

“What’s this about an oath?”

“When we joined the Order, we each took an oath of obedience to Dumbledore.”

Harry shook his head, confused. “ _I_ never took any such oath.”

Arthur laughed. “This is because _you_ went from underage junior member directly to leader. You were never a ‘regular’ member of the Order.”

Harry thought, _This is a problem, if I try to give orders to Order members but Dumbledore can countermand those orders. I need to fix this. Elderly Harry showed me that Dumbledore can’t be trusted_.

****

**Another excerpt from elderly Harry’s letter to his fifteen-year-old self  
** **On the topic of Albus Dumbledore**

I admired Headmaster Dumbledore when I was your age, and I did for many years following. Indeed, I named my second son Albus Severus.

Whilst I never have liked Severus Snape, potions master and later headmaster, I learnt to respect him, from memories he shared as he died. My point is that I do not apologise to you, my young self, for naming a son after Severus Snape; but I am red with embarrassment to admit that I named a son after Albus Dumbledore, a wizard I now despise.

How did my attitude towards Dumbledore sour so completely between the time I named my second son, and now? Read on.

Some years after I named my son, Headmaster Flitwick found some journals that Dumbledore had written, journals that supposedly Dumbledore had enspelled to stay hidden for a hundred years after his death. Headmaster Flitwick, after finding the “unfindable” journals, magically copied the journals and sent the copies to the _Daily Prophet_ ; the original journals he gave to the Hogwarts library. (In a later _Daily Prophet_ interview, Headmaster Flitwick said that the whole time he was involved in making Dumbledore’s journals public, Dumbledore’s portrait was _screaming_ at him.)

My attitude towards Albus Dumbledore changed 180 degrees after I read these words that he secretly had written in 1995: “Logic dictates only four outcomes of the enmity between Tom and Harry: that neither kill the other, for any number of reasons; that Tom kills Harry; that Harry kills Tom; and that they kill each other. But the possibility of Tom and Harry coexisting, more-or-less peacefully, is ruled out by the prophecy, which says, ‘and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives.’ So what is left? Either Harry dies, or Harry kills Tom and lives. But if Harry lives after killing Tom, what happens to him then? Why, Harry becomes FAMOUS. Much more famous than as the ‘boy who lived,’ and perhaps even more famous than the ‘defeater of Grindelwald.’ But Harry nowadays is desperate to live his life as ‘just Harry’; he would be miserable being even more famous than he is now. Certainly, Harry would waste his great fame, just as he wastes the fame he has now. Whereas I already am accustomed to great fame, and I already understand how to use my fame for the Greater Good. So it follows that the Greater Good would only benefit if I became even more famous than I am now, as the ‘defeater of Grindelwald and the slayer of Voldemort,’ compared to if it were Harry who became Tom’s slayer. So logic chooses my path: For the Greater Good, I must continue giving Harry no help, so that the last battle between Tom and Harry ends with Harry’s death, me slaying Tom, and my greater glory. But to honour Harry’s necessary sacrifice, after I slay Tom, I will visit Harry’s grave often.”

Young Harry, Dumbledore will tell you that if you give yourself over to his wisdom, the result shall be your victory over Voldemort. Not so. Listen to Dumbledore and you shall die—just as he intended. At least Voldemort is honest in his deadly intentions towards you.

****

**Wednesday, 17th July, early afternoon**

Harry now was hungry, but the excitement with Umbridge meant that Harry had missed lunch with Arthur. When Harry asked Arthur, “Where is a good place to eat in this building?”, Arthur directed Harry to the Executive Dining Room on Level Five.

When Harry walked into the Executive Dining Room, he heard murmurs of “That’s Harry Potter!” Harry by now was used to hearing such things in Diagon Alley, but he had hoped that the eaters in the Executive Dining Room would be more blasé about him. Apparently not.

Harry had just sat down, and a waiter had just presented Harry with a menu, when a male voice asked, “Mind if I join you?” Harry looked up and saw Rufus Scrimgeour standing at his table.

Harry was annoyed—he wanted to _eat_ , not to be chatted-up by a dodgy politician—but he allowed the Minister for Magic to sit down.

Even as Scrimgeour was dropping himself onto the seat cushion, Harry said, “I suppose you’re here to talk to me about Dolores Umbridge.”

“No,” said Scrimgeour, frowning. “What’s she done now?”

Harry was astounded. “You haven’t heard about Umbridge today?”

“I was elf-mailed a note that I was ‘urgently’ needed at the DMLE. I assume that she went and arrested somebody well connected, he’s fighting it and she wants me to rule in her favour. Why do you mention her? What have _you_ heard?”

Harry glared at Minister Scrimgeour. “I didn’t ‘hear’ anything, I arrested her for threatening my life.”

Scrimgeour stared.

Harry continued, “Before I arrested her, Umbridge openly boasted that so long as she brings quote-unquote _results_ , she is allowed to do anything she pleases. Minister Scrimgeour, my question is, _is she correct?_ ”

Scrimgeour looked stunned. “Tell me why you’re convinced she threatened your life today.”

Harry told the Minister for Magic how last summer, two Dementors attacked him and his Muggle cousin in the park near his relatives’ house, because Harry had been publicly contradicting Fudge’s breezy assurances that Voldemort had not returned. When the Dementors did not succeed at Kissing Harry, Umbridge co-presided over a sham trial that accused Harry of “performing magic in the presence of a Muggle”—the cousin whose house Harry shared—with the threatened punishment being to expel Harry from Hogwarts and to snap his wand. When Dolores did not stop Harry this way either, she got Fudge to appoint her High Inquisitor at Hogwarts during Harry’s fifth year, where she assigned Harry many baseless detentions, in which Harry’s punishment was to write “I must not tell lies”—whilst using a Blood Quill.

After Harry finished his recitation, he looked hard at Minister Scrimgeour. “So you see that, _short of a ministerial pardon_ , Umbridge is headed for Azkaban. But if you didn’t know about her, what did you come here to talk to me about?”

Scrimgeour asked, “Have you spoken to Albus Dumbledore since the end of term?”

“Several times. Why?”

“Has Dumbledore ever expressed interest in becoming Minister for Magic?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Voldemort is out there somewhere, gathering followers and terrorising Muggle-borns and Muggles, and you’re worried about Dumbledore _taking your job?_ ”

“Please answer my question.”

Harry shrugged. “The good news for you is, I’ve never heard the headmaster say anything like that. The bad news is, I’m fifteen—nobody would expect a hundred-years-old-plus headmaster to confide in me, even if he weren’t also secretive by nature.”

Minister Scrimgeour said, “I would be pleased if you, Harry Potter ‘the boy who lived,’ would give a public statement to the _Daily Prophet_ that my Ministry was making fierce efforts to fight Voldemort.”

Harry shook his head. “No way. I know for a fact you’re _not_.”

Scrimgeour looked shocked, then he looked angry.

Harry crossed his arms. “When I read that Fudge had resigned, I, foolish person that I am, took for granted that immediately the Pink Toad would have been arrested for her many crimes, would be put on trial in the Wizengamot, and now would be ‘enjoying’ an entirely different relationship with Dementors. But no, Umbridge _the blood-purity bigot_ is still walking free, she still has the same job as under Fudge, and she still is making threats. Not only is this a travesty of justice, but it tells me that you want to stay cozy with the other blood-purity bigots who have titles and who can vote in the Wizengamot. It looks to me like you’re the same as Fudge—not interested in doing your job, only in creating a good image for yourself.”

Scrimgeour yelled, “I am _nothing_ like Fudge!”

“Two words: Dolores Umbridge.”

“So that’s your price for you to endorse me? Umbridge in Azkaban?”

“Listen, you’re not getting an _automatic_ endorsement from me, no matter what you do. I will tell you, however, that so long as the Pink One is walking free, if the _Prophet_ asks me ‘What do you think of the new Minister?’, my answer will be unflattering. But I see _maybe_ a way for Wizarding Britain to think you’re a _brilliant_ Minister for Magic, whether I endorse you or not.”

Scrimgeour tried to make his face look merely matter-of-fact, but some eagerness still showed through: “And what is this way that you see?”

Harry leant forwards, and lowered his voice. “In about a fortnight, I hope to make a _big_ move against Voldy. If things turn out like I hope, then I will want every Auror with me that you can spare. In a best-case scenario, Voldy and his thugs will be dead soon afterwards, and you, the Director of the DMLE and me all will be covered in glory.”

“What does Dumbledore think of your idea?”

“He hasn’t heard it. These days I don’t speak to Dumbledore if I can avoid it.”

Minister Scrimgeour stared. Abruptly he put on a serious face and said, “When you need Aurors a-plenty, you shall have them. As for Dolores Umbridge, she shall be tried in the Wizengamot on Friday, and I shall not recommend leniency.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. Minister Scrimgeour shook Harry’s hand and left him to his meal.

****

**Thirty minutes later  
** **In Gringotts Bank in Diagon Alley**

Harry told the goblin teller, “I wish to speak with Director Ragnok.”

The teller looked scornfully at Harry. “ _Everyone_ wants to talk with Director Ragnok.”

Harry replied, “ ‘Everyone’ isn’t working on an idea that might start another Goblin War. I want to speak with Director Ragnok to see if we can prevent this.”

Twelve minutes later, Harry was seated across a huge desk from Director Ragnok.

Ragnok asked, “What is this idea of yours that might start another Goblin War?”

Harry answered, “I want to find a house that is under Fidelius—such as Malfoy Manor, where Voldemort is rumoured to be staying. I want to destroy a house that is heavily warded, without the wards stopping the destruction or giving advance warning to the house’s occupants—such as Malfoy Manor, where Voldemort is rumoured to be staying. To do this, I want to hire a warder to put wards and a Fidelius charm on a box, then I want to try to find a way to outsmart the magic. The best warders I know of, come from Gringotts.”

Ragnok grunted.

Harry continued, “Anyway, if my theory works, and if word gets back to the Dark wizards that Gringotts helped me defeat Voldy, those dark wizards will make war on the bank.”

Ragnok’s grin showed sharp teeth. “Oh, I’m not worried. The only reason Tom Riddle and his minions all are still alive is that it would be bad business to kill them all. But I thank you for thinking of us.”

Two minutes later, a puzzled-looking Bill Weasley was standing in Ragnok’s office—where Bill promptly was informed that he was sacked from Gringotts.

Ragnok assured Bill, “You will be hired back at the proper time, with no loss of pay or benefits, so don’t worry. But Lord Black-Potter wants to hire you for a special project, and you can’t be connected to us whilst you work on this project.”

“Erm, okay,” Bill said, looking at Harry curiously.

Harry gave Bill the apparition-coordinates for just outside the wards of Potter Manor; Harry would meet Bill there tomorrow morning.

Harry bowed to Director Ragnok as he thanked him, then Harry walked out of the bank. Harry’s next stop: Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

****

**Two minutes later  
** **In Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes**

Harry asked the twins, “If I put a Parselmagic tracking spell on a grain of sand, can you attach the sand to someone without using Parselmagic, and keep the sand attached to him or her without using Parselmagic?”

George grinned. “Do you want the ‘attaching’ to hurt?”

Harry shook his head. “No hurting—”

“Spoilsport,” said Fred.

“No feeling at all; I don’t want the tracked person knowing he or she has been tagged.”

“Easily done,” George said.

“ _Brilliant_ ,” Harry said. “I’m good for however-many galleons you need.”

Fred asked, “Are you _sure_ you don’t want the attaching to hurt?”

****

As soon as Harry walked out of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, he slapped his hand to his forehead. “Dammit, I _knew_ I forgot something. Now I need to head back to the Ministry of Magic.”

****

**Several minutes later  
** **Obliviator Headquarters, the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes**

“Are you lost, young man?” a concerned-looking witch asked Harry.

“No, I’m here to do some research. When there is some sort of magical accident or catastrophe and you make Muggle witnesses forget it, you keep records of what the accident was that you made the Muggles forget, right?”

“Of course!” she said. “Thanks to our record-keeping, several times through the years, Aurors have caught wizards and witches who were sloppy about obeying the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, or who were even flouting it.”

“ _Brilliant_ ,” Harry said, smiling at her. “Though I suspect that most of the magical accidents that you bulk-Obliviate are indeed accidents, right?”

“Yes,” she admitted, “but even these times, we do important work.”

Harry said, “I’m hoping your record-keeping is up to par. I’m interested in times when a Muggle aeroplane crashed because of something magical.”


	14. The Obliviators’ Mystery: Solved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One minor outcome of AU-Hermione spending only three days of Summer 1996 at the Burrow (see Chapters 8 through 10), as opposed to all summer like in canon, is that now AU-Hermione is free to obtain a provisional driver’s license and to be taught how to drive by her parents. However, she will not be able to earn a regular driver’s license, under UK law, until she is seventeen.
> 
> In this chapter, AU-Harry sings part of the song “Celebration,” which is part of the 1980 album of the same name by Kool & The Gang.

**Afternoon Wednesday, 17th July  
** **Obliviator Headquarters, the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes**

The receptionist-witch, who was in her thirties, smiled. “Ooh, a challenge! But I think we can handle it. May I have your name, sir?”

“Erm, I’m Harry—I mean, Lord Black-Potter.”

The witch gasped, and her eyes went to his forehead.

“Hello, Lord Black-Potter, I’m Heather Tidwell.” Which Harry recognised as _not_ a wizarding-family name.

“Pleased to meet you,” Harry said, and kissed her knuckles. Heather giggled.

Heather the receptionist said to Harry, “You’re friends with Hermione Granger, the mundane-born, right?”

“I am,” Harry said, grinning. “She’s known in school as ‘the brightest witch of her age.’ She just scored a basketful of O’s for her O.W.L. exams, and I’m sure she’ll be handed another basketful, once she takes her N.E.W.T.’s.”

“I wish her well,” Heather said, “but N.E.W.T. exams really aren’t important if you’re mundane-born.” Heather’s mouth was smiling, but her eyes were boring into Harry’s, determined to send him a message.

Harry said, “Once Voldy is dead, hopefully the discrimination against mundane-borns won’t be a problem much longer.”

“Hopefully,” Heather said, not sounding optimistic.

****

**Seconds later**

Heather walked Harry into a large room, which had sixteen desks, a large table, and an umbrella-stand by the door. On the wall above the umbrella-stand, someone had sticky-charmed a handwritten sign: “If you forget your umbrella, don’t blame the Obliviators.” Only one Obliviator was sitting at a desk: an older witch who was writing on a one-foot-long, pre-printed parchment. At the big table, seven witches and wizards were playing Exploding Snap.

Harry asked, “What am I seeing?”

Heather said, “B-Team is out. A-Team is idle for now, but this could change at any moment.”

The witch with a parchment looked up. “ _I’m_ not idle, because there’s always parchment-work to be filled out.”

Heather led Harry over to the other witch. “Lord Black-Potter, this is Auror First Class Salemia Johnson, A-Team’s Head Obliviator. Auror Johnson, this is Lord Black-Potter, otherwise known as Harry Potter.”

Harry started to bend down to kiss Auror Johnson’s knuckles, but she rotated her hand, then shook Harry’s hand. Johnson explained, “When Aurors are working, you shake witch-Aurors’ hands, just like wizard-Aurors’ hands.”

Harry, blushing, said, “Good to know.”

Auror Johnson looked at Harry and, in a voice lacking warmth, asked, “Is there anything I can help you with, Lord Black-Potter?”

Heather said, “Oh no, he’s here for a records search; he wants to find out about Muggle aeroplane crashes caused by magic—”

Auror Johnson’s eyebrows went up. The card game immediately went silent and still. (Except for cards exploding.)

Heather continued, “Auror Johnson, may I trouble you for a blank Obliviation Report form to show him?”

Auror Johnson opened a desk drawer, pulled out a blank form, and handed it to Heather. As she did so, she growled, “Remember, Miss Tidwell, that you have taken a Vow not to reveal certain information.”

A look passed between the two witches.

****

Heather said to Harry, “Let me walk you through the form. At the top left, printed in green, see the seven-digit number? It’s different for every form. At the top right, to the right of the box for ‘Date,” are three tick-boxes: ‘Accident,’ ‘Catastrophe,’ and ‘Foolishness.’ A ‘Catastrophe’ is defined as five or more people dead, doesn’t matter if they’re magicals or mundanes, and/or over ten thousand galleons’ worth of property damage; an ‘Accident’ is not as bad with deaths or property damage. ‘Foolishness’ means some witch or wizard has less sense than a flobberworm. Anytime the ‘Foolishness’ box is ticked, someone is facing a stiff fine and/or time in Azkaban; if both the ‘Catastrophe’ and ‘Foolishness’ boxes are ticked, somebody is going to Azkaban _for life_.”

Harry asked, “How often has this happened, life in Azkaban for something requiring obliviation?”

Auror Johnson answered, “Since I was transferred here, magicals have been sentenced to a five-year sentence and four ten-year sentences. A wizard in the 1960s got life. Don’t know about before. But let me add something: If you act stupid and this kills enough magicals, even if you didn’t _intend_ to kill them, you’ll be given a look at a Dementor’s tonsils.”

Harry asked, “What if you accidentally kill a mob of _Muggles?_ Will this get the Kiss too?”

Johnson shrugged. “Probably not.”

Harry sighed. “Moving on?” he prompted.

Heather said, “Now you see boxes to fill out: ‘Head Obliviator,’ ‘Names of Magicals Causing Accident or Catastrophe,’ ‘Location (Apparition Coordinates),’ ‘Location (Longitude/Latitude),’ ‘Location (Muggle Description),’ ‘Number of Magicals Dead,’ ‘Number of Muggles Dead,’ ‘Number of Muggles Obliviated,’ ‘Names of Muggles Obliviated’—”

Harry asked, “Why is the box for ‘Names’ drawn with thin lines, whilst all the other boxes are drawn with thick lines?”

Auror Johnson answered, “It means I’m not required to fill in the names of Muggles I Obliviate. In fact, I never collect _any_ names. It’s dangerous to keep my team around angry or scared Muggles any longer than I need to.”

Heather continued, “The rest of the form: ‘Property Damage in Galleons,’ ‘Cause of Accident or Catastrophe,’ ‘What Obliviated Muggles Have in Common,’ and ‘Comments.’ ”

Harry observed, “ ‘Comments’ is another thin-lines box.”

Heather said, “Now that you know what’s on every form, let’s start your search. Follow me, please.”

Harry waved the blank form about, and said to Auror Johnson, “May I take this with me? I’ll bring it back.”

****

After Heather Tidwell and Harry Potter left the bullpen, one of the A-Team Obliviators put down his cards and asked, “Oi, Johnson. Do you think Harry Potter will figure out the _secret_ , if nobody here breaks their Vow?”

Salemia Johnson said, “Maybe,” as she made the rocking-hand gesture. “Look how he handled the Tri-Wizard. He’s right smart for his age.”

Another Obliviator asked, “If he _does_ figure out the secret, all by himself, will we be ordered to Obliviate him?”

Salemia thought about it, then said, “If somehow the secret helps Harry Potter kill the Dark Lord? No. Otherwise? Yes.”

****

**Meanwhile, in the “1927-1996” room in Obliviator Headquarters**

Harry gasped when he walked into the room.

The room was crammed full with filing cabinet, plus two things more. The room held a table with five thick legs—the fifth leg was in the middle; and the table looked thick enough to hold the weight of a coiled sixty-foot basilisk. On that sturdy table was a book bigger than Harry had ever imagined: four feet long, three feet wide and over a foot tall. The book was titled _Date_.

At one end of the table was a stack of blank half-foot parchments. Heather moved the top blank parchment elsewhere on the table, cast a spell on the parchment that Harry did not recognise, then said brightly, “Let’s do your search. Tell me the name of a box on the form, and what words you want to find in the box.”

Harry said, “Let’s try the box ‘Cause of Accident or Catastrophe,’ looking for ‘aeroplane.’ ”

“Erm...,” said Heather. She looked like she was about to say something else. Instead, she cast a spell on the giant book. Its title changed to _Cause of Accident or Catastrophe_ , and the book became thicker.

Heather pointed her wand at the giant book, as she said “Something-something-something-aeroplane-something,” then Heather pointed her wand at the blank parchment—

—which stayed blank.

“No match,” Heather explained.

Harry said, “Britain hasn’t had _even one_ magic-caused aeroplane crash since 1927?”

“No, it isn’t that, the ‘no match’ is because”—Heather coughed and coughed. Suddenly her coughing stopped. “Let’s try a different box.”

“Okay, ‘What Obliviated Muggles have in Common,’ look for ‘aeroplane’ again.”

This time, five green report-numbers appeared on the blank parchment.

Harry and Heather tried looking for _aeroplane_ in “Comments,” which resulted in two matches (which already were written down on the parchment). They tried looking for _airport_ in “Location (Muggle Description)”; four of the five report-numbers repeated.

Harry was out of ideas then, so Heather pulled the five reports and made copies for him.

None of the five reports mentioned that its aeroplane was in level flight or was landing when the accident happened. Two reports had Comments that said something like “The aeroplane had just risen from its road.”

Looking at the five reports, Harry immediately spotted something else—something _strange_.

****

“All five reports,” Harry said, “under ‘Cause of Accident or Catastrophe,’ they all say ‘Code FW.’ Nothing else, that’s it. And the parchment inside the box is _shiny-smooth_ —something else was written there, but it’s been erased. Several times erased.”

Heather looked unhappy. “I can’t say anything about what you’re asking about.”

“So you can’t tell me what ‘Code FW’ means, right?”

“Not even slightly. I’m truly sorry, Lord Black-Potter. I took a Vow, which covers ‘Code FW.’ ”

Harry told the Vow-bound, Muggle-born receptionist that he was not bothered that she was not allowed to tell him a certain secret. Harry did _not_ tell her that he had a strong hunch what the Obliviators’ secret was.

Nor did Harry let Heather see him _grinning like a fool_ when, after returning the blank report-form to Auror Johnson, Harry walked out of Obliviator Headquarters. Harry still was grinning when he stepped into the elevator, with five obliviation reports in his hand.

****

**That evening, Wednesday, 17th July  
** **At the home of Ted and Andromeda Tonks**

Don’t-call-me-Nymphadora Tonks shared her approval of the Order of the Phoenix’s new leadership with her parents, who then decided that they also approved of Harry taking over the “do-nothing” Order. Tonks also shared her approval of Harry with Remus Lupin. Remus said that Harry should have waited to take over the Order till he had received “permission” from Dumbledore. Tonks and Remus wound up arguing loudly.

****

**The next morning: 10:00 a.m. Thursday, 18th July  
** **Potter Manor**

Neville had been the first to arrive (by floo, at 9:52). He had not shown surprise when Dobby the house-elf had elf- _pop_ ped Hermione into the Potter Manor foyer. But Neville clearly had been startled when Daphne Greengrass had stepped out of the Floo Fireplace.

Harry had explained to Neville, “Daphne is here because she is the future Lady Black. But also, Daphne, Hermione and I share a Big Secret; and after Bill leaves today, I will share this secret with _you_.”

Hermione had smiled at Neville. “Harry wouldn’t _think_ of sharing this _big_ secret with Ron, but _you_ he trusts. Be proud.”

Now as Neville and Daphne listened in, Harry handed Hermione a piece of paper that had his handwriting (in pen) on the paper. “These are the dates, and the longitudes/latitudes, of five aeroplane crashes that I’m interested in. Please dig up everything that the _Times_ , the _Guardian_ and the _Daily Telegraph_ have to say about the crashes, _especially_ what the newspapers say were the supposed causes of the crashes. Look for everything that the five crashes have in common. Whatever money you spend, I’ll pay you back.”

Daphne asked, “What do you mean, the ‘supposed’ causes of the crashes?”

Harry replied, “Britain has had many more than five aeroplane crashes since 1927; but for these five crashes, Obliviators showed up afterwards and rewrote the memories of the surviving Muggles. Which tells me that magic somehow was involved. But the _true_ cause of those crashes? The Obliviators are keeping this a secret.”

Then Harry grinned at his three friends. “But I think I’ve figured out the Obliviators’ secret, and it’s _juicy_.”

Hermione promised, “I shall go to the Crawley Library and look up these crashes on microfiche, the first chance I get.” Then Hermione grinned. “But now, instead of _being driven_ to the library, I have a provisional license, which means I can _drive myself_ —and a parent—to the library.”

Harry said, “How’s that working out for you, learning to drive?”

“So-so,” Hermione answered. “I’ve discovered that when I’m behind the wheel and my father is to my left, sweet Dad turns into Professor Snape. Mum is the much easier parent from whom to learn.”

Neville asked, “Learning to drive is a big deal with teenage Muggles?”

Harry nodded. “Think ‘Apparition license.’ ”

Both Neville and Daphne nodded, finally understanding.

 _Pop_. House-elf Greyclay told Harry, “You have a redheaded visitor, just beyond the wards.” Greyclay pointed out the direction through the wall.

Harry grinned at Neville, Daphne and Hermione. “Nice to know that Bill is like the rest of his tribe: can’t be on time to save his life.”

****

Bill Weasley turned out to be handsome, and in his twenties; his red hair was long, and parted in the middle. He had picked up the goblins’ time-is-money outlook, so Bill and Harry spent only six sentences on small talk—

“How’s Fleur doing?”

“She’s fine. I quite like her.”

“And the rest of the Weasleys?”

“They’re fine too. I haven’t told Ron that you’ve hired me.”

—then came the haggling. After Heir Weasley, Heir Longbottom and Heiress Greengrass had exchanged formal greetings, Bill said to Harry, “Whatever this mysterious project is, if you were hiring me through Gringotts, you would be told to either pay a hundred galleons a day or to leave the bank immediately.”

Daphne replied, “But after Director Ragnok and the other goblins took their cut, you would receive only forty galleons a day. Which, by an amazing coincidence, is what the Boy Who Lived offers you now: forty galleons a day. Period.”

Harry said, “Though I’m unofficially promising a fifty-galleon bonus, paid at the end, if I like your work.”

Hermione said to Daphne, “What did I tell you would happen? It just happened.”

Daphne growled, “ _Harry_...”

Harry’s grin was pure Salazar Slytherin. “But Bill, you’re going to take an Unbreakable Vow, swearing on your magic _and your life_ —and you others will have to take the same Vow, ladies and Neville—and _this_ Vow won’t be the standard ‘I promise not to tell.’ In any case, not only will you be banned from telling Joe Wizard and Jane Witch about what happens here and everything you learn here, but you can’t ever tell _Gringotts_ , and you can’t ever tell _Molly_ , _Ron_ or _Ginny_ —without my in-person permission.”

Hermione said, “And Bill, if you haven’t heard, Harry and I refuse to set foot in the Burrow ever again, so long as Ron is there.”

Bill whistled. “Harry, you drive a hard bargain.”

Harry still wore his sinister grin. “And before any of you can chat _these_ particular secrets, you not only must get my in-person, spoken permission, but you must use the spell that healers and Aurors use, to obtain the Hufflepuff Magical-Signature Text of the person _claiming_ to be me, to confirm that he _is_ me.”

Daphne said, “ _Merlin_ , Harry, this is a Slytherin-common-room level of paranoia. _Especially_ the ‘If I talk, I die’ part.”

“Yes it is,” said Harry, “but once you find out what work we’re doing here today, you’ll understand why. Trust me, all four of you will want to tell your grandchildren about what we do here—and if not for your Unbreakable Vow, you _would_ tell them, in an instant.”

Bill said, “How about you make it forty galleons and a knut a day, so that I can tell the goblins I didn’t accept your first offer.”

“No problem,” Harry said. He and Bill shook hands.

“Let’s speak our Vows, then get to work,” Bill said.

****

Harry led the other four people out the kitchen door. Just outside was a wooden box that was four feet tall by four feet long by six feet wide; the top of the box had been charmed a bright red.

Harry said to Bill, “Potter Manor has its own Quidditch pitch, over there.” He pointed. “I want you to take this box to _about_ the middle of the pitch, but not _exactly_ the middle. I want you to put a Fidelius on the box, with you as the Secret Keeper, so that nobody else can see the box; and I want you to ward the box so that nobody can walk up to it and touch it. With me so far?”

Bill said, “Sure, but this doesn’t sound like something I’ll want to tell my grandkids.”

“Just you watch, I’m about to get tricky. I want the wards to be _effective_ —everyone gets stopped—but I want them _harmless_. I’m going to be deliberately bumping up against the wards, whilst on a broom, and I don’t want the wards to hurt me or to knock me off my broom.”

Hermione said, “Harry, you plan to _deliberately_ hit the wards for this box, _over and over?_ On a _broom?_ ”

Daphne laughed. “Harry, if this is your plan, you will prove once and for all, _everything_ that Slytherins have ever said about Gryffindors.”

Harry didn’t speak at first, he merely grinned at Hermione and Daphne.

After several seconds of Harry’s silent grinning, he said to Bill, “After you’ve finished with the wards and Fidelius charm on the box, bring my friends out to the Quidditch pitch and tell them the Secret of where the box is.”

Harry then looked at Neville, Hermione and Daphne. “Your job, once you know exactly where the box is, is to test the wards. Make sure that they work but they’re harmless.”

Neville said, “So you want _us_ to hit the wards for the box, over and over? Even your Slytherin wife-to-be?”

Daphne stood straight. “I can’t be a Gryffindor’s wife very well if I’m a _coward_ , can I? I’ll match you at testing those wards, Heir Longbottom, hit for hit.”

Harry said, “I want to point out, if anyone is nervous but doesn’t want to admit it, that you three will be standing on the ground during the entire wards-test. If the wards-wall pushes you back too hard and you fall down, all that’ll happen to you is that you’ll get a bit of dirt on your clothes.”

Bill said, “I know just the ward scheme to use—something I invented to counter-prank the twins. One night, their bedroom door was open, but _for some reason_ , they couldn’t walk past the doorway.” Bill grinned a George-and-Fred grin.

Neville asked, “You bumping up against Bill’s wards, Harry—what are you trying to achieve with this?”

Harry grinned. “Something that everyone ‘knows’ is impossible. Something you’ll want to tell your grandkids that you were here to see.”

****

**Later that day**

Bill had moved the red-topped wooden box to the Quidditch pitch, had done his warding, and had called Hermione, Daphne and Neville to test the wards. When Harry’s friends came into the manor house to tell him that everything was ready for him, all three of them were pink-cheeked and were grinning like firsties after a snowball fight.

Daphne said, “The wards-wall isn’t hard like a brick wall. it has a little ‘give’ to it.”

Neville said, “It’s like squeezing a plant stalk.”

Hermione said, “Or like squeezing a bicycle tyre. Anyway, surrounding your box is an invisible, inflatable cylinder that is _great fun_ to run into! It’s like bouncing on a trampoline, but sideways.”

Harry said, “Let’s find out how fun it is for me to bump up against the invisible, inflatable cylinder, high up on a broom.”

****

Hermione, Neville and Daphne walked over to the Potter Manor Quidditch pitch, with Harry carrying his broom. Even as Hermione was looking directly at the red-topped box—which was set a little to the right of the two-foot-diameter circle in the centre of the oval-shaped pitch—Harry said, “I look about, and I can’t see even a hint of the wards, or the box, or anything unusual. To me, the pitch looks the same as it did yesterday. Now to work.”

Hermione watched Harry mount his broom, just as she had seen him do many times before, but this time he then flew low to the ground, and flew slowly. Harry’s flight followed the edge of the pitch till he was at the far end of the oval’s short axis.

Harry turned parallel to the oval’s long axis and flew till he reached the pitch’s edge (which happened almost immediately). Harry then made a tight U-turn and flew the other direction, again parallel to the oval’s long axis. Every time Harry flew over the edge of the pitch, he made another tight U-turn and reversed direction, each time coming just a little closer to the four young magicals who were watching him. Except for Harry flying three feet off the ground, on a broom, his movement over the pitch reminded Hermione of her father mowing the lawn.

****

**About ten minutes later**

Hermione was holding her breath, because slow-moving Harry was coming ever closer to where she remembered that the edge of the invisible, cylindrical wards-wall was.

Indeed, the end of Harry’s broomstick suddenly was pushed to his right. Harry took his left hand off the broomstick and moved that hand to the left. Abruptly his hand stopped, then shook, as Harry pressed against the invisible wall.

A minute or two later, Harry, by trial and error and much use of his outstretched left hand, had discovered the boundary of the cylindrical wards-wall.

Up till now, Harry had acted sensibly, flying only three feet off the ground; Hermione approved.

Then Harry rose ten feet. He reached out with his left hand and pressed against the invisible, inflatable wall. Hermione was nervous now, because Harry now was higher than Hermione ever willingly flew on a broom. Harry was high enough that if he fell off his broom now, he would break a bone.

Then Harry rose another ten feet.

****

**Many minutes later**

Harry was _way_ high up.

When Harry held his left arm down and bent his wrist back, the palm of his outstretched left hand covered Potter Manor.

Harry was high enough off the ground that he could cover half of the 500-foot-long oval Quidditch pitch with his left hand, if he wished. Instead, Harry used his left hand to press against the wards-wall—

—and discovered less resistance than he had come against before.

Harry rose another ten feet and pressed against the invisible wall. This time, the wards-wall’s resistance was even weaker.

Two more ten-foot rises later, and Harry’s left hand reached for where he expected the invisible wall to be—and found no resistance at all.

Harry moved his broom sideways, away from the maybe-there, maybe-not wards-wall. He rotated his broom a quarter-turn counterclockwise, so that the broomstick was pointed directly towards the wards-wall. Harry slowly, cautiously moved forwards, with both hands gripping the broomstick.

When Harry was sure that he was _inside_ the invisible cylinder, he made himself lean forward and look straight down. He saw a red rectangle almost in the middle of the Quidditch pitch’s green oval. Harry now could see the wooden box that had been Fidelius-invisible to him when he had left the ground.

 _YES!_ he thought. _Yes, yes, yes!_

Now Harry began a controlled-speed drop, as though he were riding in an invisible elevator.

Elderly Harry, in his book-letter, had written out a list of helpful Parseltongue spells, explaining that it would be unwise for young Harry to do research in the Chamber of Secrets’ library when Dumbledore would know he was there and would demand to know what he had learnt. Anyway, one of the Parseltongue spells that elderly Harry had written down was “See Wards”—but this spell would work only when spoken _inside_ the wards. Now it took Harry five tries, because he had not memorised the spell, but eventually he spoke the Parseltongue spell correctly and found himself surrounded by a cylindrical wall of green sparkles.

Harry continued his controlled descent.

****

Hermione was frightened for Harry. He now was so high up off the ground that he was only a speck against blue sky. Even with a cushioning charm laid on the pitch, if Harry fell off his broom, he would be doomed.

“He’s getting bigger,” Neville said, a minute later. “He’s coming down.”

“Quickly or slowly?” Daphne asked.

“Too soon to tell,” Neville answered.

Whilst Hermione and the other three on the ground were trying to figure out how fast Harry was dropping, suddenly the wooden box in front of them was hit from above by a purple spell. The entire wooden box instantly changed colour to yellow.

Daphne asked, “Why is Harry hitting the box with the Colour-Change Charm?”

Bill’s face had turned white. He said, “Daphne, Harry can see the box! I didn’t tell him the Secret, but he can see the box!”

As if to confirm Bill’s statement, another colour-change spell hit the wooden box from above; the entire box turned Chudley Cannons orange.

Minutes later, Harry gently landed on the now-avocado-green wooden box. Harry dismounted from his broom, jumped down off the box, and walked out of the cylindrical wards-wall towards his friends.

Harry grinned and sang, “Celebrate good times, _come on!_ It’s a celebration. ”

Hermione muttered, “Harry, that’s _parents_ music!”

Meanwhile, Daphne had strode up to Harry. Now she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him close, and kissed him hard. Hermione was annoyed to notice that Harry did not merely let Daphne kiss him, but he kissed her back.

When Harry broke the kiss, Daphne turned her face to smirk at Hermione.

When finally Daphne stepped away from Harry, Hermione made her own strides up to Harry. Hermione grabbed the front of Harry’s shirt with both her hands; then she snogged Harry mightily.

Bill said, “Once again, Slytherin and Gryffindor act competitively.”

Neville said, “Well, we _are_ on a Quidditch pitch.”

****

**Minutes later, in Potter Manor**

Whilst five young magicals were drinking celebratory butterbeers, Harry said to Hermione, “I need you to craft a special spell for me, as quickly as you can.”

What Harry wanted: When he held his wand and spoke the words of the spell, an artificial voice would speak how many feet the wand was above the ground. But the artificial voice would say the number as digits; ten feet above the ground would be “one-nothing”; eleven feet off the ground would be “one-one.”

Hermione grinned, because she liked inventing spells, saying, “If you let me use the un-deadly books in the Potter library, I think I can do this. Two questions, however. When your wand is eleven feet off the ground, why don’t I just have the spell say ‘eleven’? And is this more important or less important than researching those five aeroplane crashes?”

Bill said in wonder, “Do you even breathe when you ask questions?”

Harry laughed. “Bill, _this_ is nothing. I’m convinced Hermione has a third lung.”

Hermione stuck out her tongue at Harry.

Harry said to Hermione, “The reason I want the numbers spoken as digits is because after you build your spell, I plan to translate it into Parseltongue, and snakes can count only to twelve. ‘Twenty’ is the same as ‘one million’ to a snake. As for researching the aeroplane crashes—I’d like you to do it within the next week, but this task isn’t as important now, since I’ve sure I’ve solved the aeroplane mystery.”

Hermione perked up. “ _Mystery?_ ”

Daphne asked, “There’s something mysterious about arrow-whatchacallits?”

“ _Quite_ mysterious,” Harry said. He explained—

A day and a half ago, Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was assigned to work undercover in Prime Minister Major’s office, had made a throwaway remark about the prime minister offering an RAF aeroplane to fly over the Dark Lord’s house and bomb it “into matchsticks.”

Harry had to explain his terms to Muggle-ignorant Neville, Daphne and Bill. An _aeroplane_ was a Muggle machine that could fly. _RAF_ meant _Royal Air Force_ , the branch of Muggle Great Britain’s military that used military aeroplanes for war.

Harry continued, “But even as I was turning down the offer, because I thought it was a bad idea to accept _any_ Muggle help in fighting Voldy, I was imagining Shacklebolt’s suggestion: an RAF aeroplane flying over Voldy’s house and dropping bombs. But then I wondered, ‘Could the aeroplane even see the house? I bet Malfoy Manor is under Fidelius. And wouldn’t the house’s wards stop the aeroplane before the aeroplane flew directly over the house? The crash would be ghastly, because the aeroplane would be flying fast when it ran into an invisible brick wall.’ ”

Hermione glanced over at Bill. Bill looked worried for some reason.

Harry’s voice turned _sly_. “But then I realised, ‘Wouldn’t this be happening _all the time_ , aeroplanes in Britain flying into brick walls they couldn’t see, being utterly destroyed, and Muggles couldn’t explain why?’ But crashes like this _don’t_ happen, I know. This led to me thinking, ‘What if the wards make magical walls, but those magical walls go up only so high, and most of the time, aeroplanes fly _higher than_ those walls and so are unbothered by them?’ ”

Hermione glanced over at Bill again. He looked sick. Daphne and Neville looked horrified too.

Harry resumed: “So yesterday afternoon, I went to talk to the Obliviators, about aeroplane crashes in Britain that were caused by magic. It turns out that there have been only five such crashes, which is a tiny drop in the bucket compared to how many thousands of commercial flights, military flights and private flights have happened in Britain since 1927. I suspect that those five crashes all happened soon after takeoff. Anyway, once I talked to the Obliviators and they found out what I wanted to research, they acted strangely. An Auror warned the receptionist who was helping me, ‘Remember your Vow.’ And all five crashes that I was given obliviation reports for, they all listed the ‘Cause of Accident or Catastrophe’ as the same two words, ‘Code FW.’ ”

“ ‘Fidelius and wards,’ ” Bill said. “The aeroplane flew too close to a wizard building that the aeroplane couldn’t see, because the building was under the Fidelius charm; then the wards around the building destroyed the aeroplane.”

Daphne asked, “But why would the Obliviators make a big secret that five aeroplanes flew into wizarding buildings and were destroyed?”

Hermione answered, “Daphne, the secret they’re hiding is _not_ that wards destroy aeroplanes when those aeroplanes try to fly overhead. The secret they’re hiding is that, except in quite unusual circumstances, the wards _don’t_ destroy aeroplanes. _The magical walls go up only so high_.”

Harry nodded. “This is what I proved today. When I went high enough, the inflatable wards-wall wasn’t there anymore, so I was able to move inside where the wards-wall should have been, but wasn’t. And, once I was higher than the wards-wall, I was higher than the Fidelius charm’s effects too—I could see the red-topped box. Once I dropped low enough that again I was under the power of the wards and the Fidelius charm, neither of them bothered me, because by then I was _inside_ the wards and had already seen the Fidelius-charmed box.”

Bill was staring at his bottle of butterbeer. “ _Merlin_ , I wish this were firewhisky. Every warded and supposedly-unplottable building in Wizarding Britain is _defenceless_ against attack from above.”

“True,” said Harry, grinning. “But I’m not interested in knocking shingles off of the Burrow, or Longbottom Manor or Greengrass Manor. But Voldy, in _Malfoy_ Manor? That no-nose tosser soon is gonna be _vanquished_.”

Harry’s mischievous smile reminded Hermione of the smiles that George and Fred wore during their most diabolical plottings.


	15. Girls in White Dresses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviewers of the previous chapter (Chapter 14) commented that it was their understanding that a wards-wall in canon had a hemispherical (dome) shape. Perhaps they’re right; I simply don’t recall that book-canon specified a shape. As for movie-canon, several readers told me that Hogwarts’s wards-wall is dome-shaped—but again, I don’t recall this from any movie.
> 
> In any case, I’m keeping my wards-wall cylindrical in shape for the manor houses of the wealthier families, because 1) this shape creates more drama. After Harry kills Voldy, will the DMLE arrest Harry because he has used the secret information that was hidden by “Code FW”? Will the Obliviators Obliviate him? 2) Harry outsmarts the cylindrical wards-wall in Chapter 14 by being _brave and clever_. The stories that have been remembered for centuries, such as the story of Perseus and Medusa, are remembered not because of any plot gimmick, but because the hero was brave and clever.
> 
> I want to explain why Harry was the first to discover the height of a wards-wall. In Chapter 14, I calculated that Harry rose to a height of 950 feet above the ground. To give perspective, it looks to me as though in the movies, the highest part of Hogwarts’s Quidditch pitch, the seats-towers, is only about 50 to 100 feet above the ground. In the movies, Hogwarts SOW&W looks like it is 300 or 400 feet tall. Enemies on broomsticks might attack Hogwarts by approaching from above—meaning, approaching at a height above 400 feet—but would any attacker think, _Let’s approach at a height of 960 feet and see what happens?_ I can’t imagine this.
> 
> Chapter 15 was originally posted 19th January 2020; Chapter 15 was taken down and reposted on 22nd January 2020. The reason: The first time, your pillock author forgot to write up Dolores Umbridge’s trial and its aftermath.

**Still Thursday, 18th July  
** **Potter Manor**

Harry announced that he had more work for Bill to do than today’s experiment; at least one of Bill’s tasks could not be begun until after Hermione had crafted her Height In Digits charm and Harry had translated the charm into Parseltongue. Even on days when Bill would be idle all day, he would remain on call at the rate of forty galleons (and a knut) per day. Once Harry announced all this, Bill said goodbye to the teens and Apparated home.

As soon as Bill left, Harry asked Greyclay to bring him the pleats-folded letter and the book-letter, both from the future. After receiving a nod from Daphne, Harry handed to Neville the copy of the letter that elderly Daphne had written. Within seconds of beginning the letter, Neville gasped.

When Neville finally finished reading, he looked shocked.

With a finger, Harry tapped the cover of the book-letter, but he did not open the book. “This was sent to me by my future self, via Daphne. As much as I trust Daphne, Hermione and you, Nev, _nobody_ but me will see inside this book for _at least_ twenty years. In twenty years’ time, I figure the two histories will be so different that elderly Harry’s information won’t be useful to anyone else who reads this book.”

Neville nodded, still looking stunned.

“One thing I was told about the other future, Nev, that you’ll want to know. Not quite two years from now, Voldy makes a major assault on Hogwarts, with Death Eaters, werewolves, vampires, giant spiders, trolls, and giants—it’s nasty. Many good people die, though not the four of us plus Bill—all five of us defend Hogwarts and live to tell the tale. But during this battle, Voldy brings his big snake with him, named Nagini. That creature is _frightening_ to look at. Anyway, during the battle, somehow the Sword of Gryffindor appears in your hand. When this happens, _you_ , Nev, run over to the big snake and, without hesitation, behead it with Godric’s sword. Not only does this prevent future deaths by Nagini, but this helps to defeat Voldy. Your other, older self is a _hero_ , Nev.”

Neville looked stunned. Hermione looked stunned as well. Daphne’s mouth hung open.

Neville asked, “What happens to me? The other me. You say I live?”

Harry smiled. “You do. Eventually you marry Hannah Abbott. Sometime after this, you become the Herbology professor, and the grandfather of Holly Longbottom, a future potions mistress.”

Neville looked down. “I must be honest with you lot, sometimes I’ve wondered if my being sorted into Gryffindor was a _mistake_.” Then Neville’s chin came up, he pulled his shoulders back, and his back straightened. “The other Neville was brave; this Neville will be brave too. You can count on me, Harry.”

Daphne walked up to Neville and said solemnly, “Heir Longbottom, every bad thing I ever have said or thought about you, I now apologise for.”

Solemnly, Neville said, “Apology accepted, Heiress Greengrass.”

Harry also made a copy of “future Hermione’s mind-magic-protection rune sheet,” gave it to Neville, and explained how to use it: “...If someone tries to use Legilimency on you, you’ll hear two little bells ring, one bell by each ear.”

“Does it work?” Neville asked, as he looked at Hermione in amazement.

Harry said, “Judging by Dumbledore’s frustrated facial expressions, _oh yes_ , it works.”

Hermione grinned.

****

At this point, Neville and Daphne made their goodbyes; Daphne said goodbye to Harry with a kiss on the lips.

After tea, Hermione vanished into the Potter Library, where she set about inventing the Height In Digits charm. Harry had no idea what was involved in inventing a charm, so he had no guess how long it would take. The start of the next Hogwarts term was in roughly six weeks; Harry hoped that Hermione would finish the Height charm by then.

****

**That evening, in Greengrass Manor**

During tea time, when the family was gathered together, Daphne asked her father, “How are the betrothal negotiations with Harry coming along? Are they done?”

Astoria grinned. “Ooh, _somebody_ is in a hurry to wear a betrothal ring!”

Cyrus Greengrass answered Daphne’s question: “Almost done—another few days, I think.”

Daphne asked, “Have problems come up? Snags, with him or with you?”

“No, young Harry Potter has not threatened to walk away even once.” Lowering his voice, Cyrus added, “The lad has no idea at all how to be a cutthroat negotiator, even with his solicitors coaching him.” Now speaking at normal volume, Cyrus said, “His contract terms all have been reasonable, so _I_ have made no threats to walk away.”

“So what’s the hold-up? Why is this thing taking so long?”

“The ‘hold-up’ is that whenever I owl a letter to his solicitor, it takes a while before I am owled a reply. I suspect that young Harry Potter, never before having negotiated anything as consequential as a betrothal contract, is consulting with many magicals who are older and wiser than he, before the lad authorises his solicitor to reply to me.”

“So when I board the red train on the first of September, I can announce my betrothal?”

“Oh, the situation is much better than that. Except for one minor issue that is yet to be decided, your betrothal contract has been finalised, and awaits only being calligraphy-quilled and being signed by young Lord Black and myself.”

Opal Greengrass said to her elder daughter, “I am truly surprised that you have no second thoughts about marrying Harry Potter.”

Daphne beamed. “On the contrary. Yesterday Harry did something amazing, and I decided that being married to him was going to be an _adventure_. Besides the fact that he’s such a _good_ man.”

Astoria asked, “What did Harry do yesterday that was so amazing?”

“I can’t tell you,” Daphne replied. “He made everyone there take an Unbreakable Vow.”

Nobody in the family was foolish enough to ask _An Unbreakable Vow about what?_ But after some seconds of stunned silence by the entire family, Daphne’s mother asked, “Are you all right with this?”

Daphne grinned like the Ice Queen’s happy twin. “I am _definitely_ all right with this. Listen, the next Hogwarts term starts on the first of September, and I predict that by then, you will have heard an astounding rumour, which Harry Potter will be the cause of. Harry Potter is an _amazing_ person, and I am so pleased that one day I will marry him!”

Then Daphne looked at Cyrus Greengrass and requested, “Father, after the meal, may I speak to you privately?”

****

**A half-hour later**

Daphne was meeting with her father Cyrus in his study.

Daphne was determined not to show it, but she was nervous. She was maybe only minutes away from her father threatening to disown her.

Daphne took a calming breath and said, “Father, you remember that Harry received a 73-page letter from his older self, and Harry is trying to prevent bad future events from happening?”

When Cyrus nodded, Daphne continued, “Today Harry mentioned a ‘Battle of Hogwarts’ that happens two years from now, in that other history. Voldy, leading a big army, attacks the school.”

Cyrus looked confused. “This is amazing, to be told about an alternate history, but why are you telling me this?”

“Because today Harry mentioned that, amongst the people defending Hogwarts, was _I_ , two years older. Which shocked me to hear. Traditionally, Greengrasses are _neutral_ —but older-I wasn’t sitting on a hilltop, watching the battle, older-I was in the thick of it.”

“Thankfully, not as a Death Eater.”

“Father? Erm...” _Here goes_.

“Yes, Daphne?”

“I won’t be surprised if, sometime before the first of September of this year, Harry attacks Voldemort—”

“ _Attacks_ Voldemort?” Cyrus repeated, his eyes wide. “Merlin.”

“—but it probably won’t happen till after Harry and I have announced our betrothal. And if so, erm...”

Cyrus said, “When Harry faces the Dark Lord, you intend to stand at Harry’s side, instead of watching from a hilltop.”

 _Huh? He looks calm. Why isn’t he yelling at me?_ “Yes, I intend to fight alongside Harry. But my stance will hurt this family. Dark families will be less willing to trade with the Greengrasses, who no longer will be seen as Grey.”

“True. And perhaps you expect me, as Lord of House Greengrass, to order you to be elsewhere on that day? Lest I disown you?”

 _Gulp_.

Cyrus smiled at Daphne. “But as your _father_ , such an order would be selfish of me. Because I’m sure that Miss Granger will be standing next to Harry when the day comes to fight the Dark Lord, _hm?_ ”

Daphne nodded, confused. _Why is he mentioning Hermione?_

Cyrus continued, “But if you _aren’t_ there with the two of them, when Harry faces the Dark Lord, you shall be labelled a _coward_ , and this slander will follow you all your life.”

Cyrus laid a hand on Daphne’s shoulder—which was the Pureblood equivalent of hugging Daphne. The gesture was completely _not_ what Daphne had been expecting. “When—not if—you face the Dark Lord’s minions whilst you’re shoulder-to-shoulder with Harry Potter, I’ll be more worried about some thug _avada_ -ing you than I’ll worry about Malfoy and Flint boycotting me. But on that day, I’ll also be feeling _proud_ of how _brave_ my daughter has become.”

Daphne threw her arms around her father and hugged him fiercely. She felt such a sense of _relief_.

****

**9 p.m., in Potter Manor’s library**

Harry found Hermione in the library and said to her, “I’m going to bed. I have to be at the Ministry in the morning for the Pink Toad’s trial.”

Hermione marked her place with a bookmark, then closed the book she was reading. She asked, “Would you like me to come with you?”

With relief, Harry said, “I’d like it quite a bit.”

Hermione stacked a Muggle spiral notebook and pen on top of the bookmarked book. Now Hermione stood up and—after smirking at the portrait of James and Lily Potter in the library—snogged Harry like she meant it.

After Harry and Hermione exchanged a few more words, Hermione walked out of the library, putting extra sway in her hips, as she headed towards the guest bedroom.

****

**The next day (Friday, 19th July), 8:58 a.m.  
** **The Wizengamot chamber  
** **The Ministry of Magic**

Harry and Hermione were sitting in the visitors’ gallery because Harry, whilst twice a Lord, had not yet taken his seat in the Wizengamot. (Nor did Harry plan to claim his seat for a while yet.)

All but one of the chairs that had been reserved for seat-holders had someone sitting in it; Augusta Longbottom, Arthur Weasley, Cyrus Greengrass and Lucius Malfoy all were present.

Harry and Hermione were sitting in the section of the visitors’ gallery that was reserved for trial witnesses; otherwise it was doubtful that they could have found a seat—both the regular visitors’ gallery and the press box were _packed_.

At 9:00, Dumbledore walked into the chamber and took his place as Chief Warlock. He looked over at Harry with his “disappointed grandfather” look. After two seconds of this, Harry ignored the man for the rest of his time there.

Dumbledore made announcements, then conducted Wizengamot business that Harry paid no attention to. At 9:03, _sonorus_ -amplified Dumbledore called out, “ _Bring out the prisoners!_ ”

The prisoners turned out to be Umbridge, as Harry had known, but also Cornelius Fudge.

Fudge came out quiet (and looking nervous), but Umbridge was yelling at her Auror escort, “ _I_ demand _you release me at once! I am the Senior Undersecretary, and I will have your_ jobs _for this!_ ”

“ _No_ , Dolores,” Minister for Magic Rufus Scrimgeour said loudly. “You _were_ the Senior Undersecretary. I _sacked_ you when you were arrested, remember?”

The Toad scowled.

Then Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour acted as prosecutor in the trial of the two defendants: “Dolores Jane Umbridge, you are accused of two counts of murder of a pureblood, namely Denise Slughorn and Paul Macmillan; two counts of murder of a halfblood, namely Nigel Jones and Leona Prewett; one count of attempted murder of a halfblood, namely Harry James Potter; one count of injury to a halfblood without provocation, namely John Longbottom; and thirteen counts of using a restricted item on magical children, namely a Blood Quill. Cornelius Oscar Fudge, you are accused of being an accessory after the fact to the attempted murder of Harry James Potter by Dolores Umbridge; and for abuse of office, namely putting Harry James Potter on trial in front of the Wizengamot for underage use of magic and for using magic in the presence of a Muggle, when the facts pointed to his innocence. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty,” Fudge said.

“I’ve committed no crimes,” the Toad said. “But if I did, I had _good reasons!_ ”

****

Harry watched the trials closely and, when his memories were played in the projection pensieve, was called upon to give a Wizard’s Oath that his memories were true and unaltered.

Hermione was less involved in the proceedings—sometimes she watched the trials, sometimes she wrote in her spiral notebook, sometimes she consulted the thick book that she had brought from the Potter Library, and sometimes Hermione stared into space.

Meanwhile, it turned out that Dolores had been a naughty girl. Since even Harry knew that the Ministry _always_ promoted purebloods over halfbloods, how had Dolores Umbridge, a halfblood, risen to the top? By amazingly good luck: The person most likely to be given the promotion that Dolores coveted, would lose his job or would die due to “an unfortunate accident.” Except that, when the DMLE took a hard second look, each “accident” was not accidental at all. As for the torture with the Blood Quills, trial testimony revealed that all of the Pink Toad’s child victims at Hogwarts, except for Harry Potter, had been first- and second-year Muggle-borns.

Was Cornelius Fudge an accessory to Harry Potter’s attempted murder? The prosecution could not prove that he had done anything else beforehand than to echo the words of King Henry the Second (“Is there no one who can rid me of this troublesome priest?”) After Harry’s Dementor attack, Fudge had collected the Dementor paperwork that Umbridge had filled out (but Fudge had not destroyed the paperwork). Fudge had maybe made threats to Amelia Bones and the DMLE; but since Amelia Bones now was dead, Fudge’s threats of a year ago could not be confirmed. However, Harry being tried before the Wizengamot for underage use of magic and for using magic in the presence of a Muggle, when Fudge _knew_ that the charges were baseless— _that_ injustice was well documented, and the responsibility for the kangaroo court fell _all_ on Fudge.

****

Scrimgeour called for the verdicts on Fudge first. For the crime of being an accessory to the attempted murder of a halfblood, most of the Wizengamot seat-holders (including Arthur Weasley, Augusta Longbottom and Cyrus Greengrass) voted “Not Guilty.” For the crime of abuse of office, most of the Wizengamot voted “Guilty”—except that Lucius Malfoy and six other seat-holders voted “Not Guilty.”

Dolores Jane Umbridge was found guilty on all counts, by a vote of the majority of the Wizengamot—except that for each charge, Lucius Malfoy and his six best mates in the Wizengamot voted “Not Guilty.”

****

Cornelius Fudge was sentenced to five years in Azkaban.

For Dolores Umbridge, there was no question that her sentence would be death—but death by the Veil or death by being Kissed?

Chief Warlock Dumbledore, with eyes a-twinkle, turned to the visitors’ gallery and said, “One of Miss Umbridge’s victims is in this room now: Harry Potter. Harry, won’t you show that you are the bigger man and ask the Wizengamot to forgive Miss Umbridge’s misdeeds?” Seeing Harry’s scowl, Dumbledore amended his words: “Or can you at least be generous enough to ask the Wizengamot to give Miss Umbridge a less than deadly sentence?”

As Harry stood up, he thought, _Be firm with underminers_. Aloud, he said, “How curious, _Albus_. Another of the Pink Toad’s victims is named Longbottom; I’m curious why you haven’t asked Regent Longbottom if _she_ forgives Umbridge and will accept a mere slap on the hand as Umbridge’s punishment.”

Before either Dumbledore or Neville’s Gran replied, Harry continued, “What you call _forgiveness_ , Chief Warlock, I call _permissiveness_. I have discovered that _misplaced_ forgiveness does not cause _less_ crime in a society, it causes _more_. At Hogwarts, one brat there attacks me _repeatedly_ —because he knows he never will be punished for his misdeeds.” Harry looked into Lucius Malfoy’s eyes and continued, “I see no way that these attacks will stop, short of me killing the brat or him killing me; I expect the Hogwarts faculty to keep being _useless_ at protecting me.” Then Harry turned back to Dumbledore. “If the brat _did_ kill me, would you stand where you’re standing now, Chief Warlock, and embarrass my friend Hermione here if she would refuse to forgive my killer?”

Harry sat down then. The chamber was completely silent—

—until Lucius Malfoy raised his wand and was recognised. “I do not expect Harry Potter to call for forgiving anyone for anything. Especially after I _witnessed_ Harry Potter cast the Cruciatus Curse at someone.”

Everyone was talking then—but Minister Scrimgeour talked loudest: “Lord Black-Potter, is this true? Did you really do such a vile thing?”

Harry stood up again. “It happened on 18th June, in the Department of Mysteries, right after Bellatrix Lestrange killed Sirius Black, my godfather. I pointed my wand at Bellatrix and I said ‘ _Crucio_ ,’ but nothing happened. Bellatrix _laughed_ at me then, saying, ‘You have to _mean_ it, boy.’ She escaped before I could decide to speak the spell again.’ ”

Harry then bowed his head. “I shall accept whatever punishment is due me.”

Lucius said, “I _demand_ that Harry Potter be arrested and tried right now, for casting an Unforgivable.”

“ _No_ , Lord Malfoy,” Scrimgeour said, “Harry Potter _attempted_ to cast an Unforgivable, but did not succeed. Attempting an Unforgivable is not a crime.”

Scrimgeour’s ruling ended the excitement in the Wizengamot chamber, except for Umbridge’s actual sentence and execution. The Pink Toad was sentenced to be Kissed.

Harry and Hermione left the visitors’ gallery before Umbridge’s sentence was carried out.

****

**A minute later  
** **In the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic**

Rita Skeeter tried to grab Harry and pull him off to the side for a “private interview.” Harry yanked his arm away, saying loudly, “Don’t _bug_ us, Rita.”

Rita’s face turned white. Perhaps because there were many other reporters within earshot, if Harry or Hermione decided to reveal that Rita was an unregistered beetle animagus?

Rita stammered, “But Harry my dear, the public wants to hear your side of today’s events, in your own words.”

Hermione snorted. “In _his_ own words? Are you sure they’d be _his?_ ”

Then Hermione shifted into a shrill voice: “The vicious gossip wracked her gormless brain, twisting her once-plain face that now showed the ravages of time, as she consciencelessly crafted another cockamamie libel against Harry Potter, the one public figure who never has hurt the public.”

By now, all the other reporters were laughing. Rita slinked away.

What followed was a brief press conference—

Reporter 1: “Are you satisfied with the punishment that Dolores Umbridge received for trying to murder you?”

Harry: “I was surprised, but not shocked, to learn that she had murdered people, besides torturing me and attempting to kill me by Dementor’s Kiss. So for what she did, nobody but Albus Dumbledore would argue that she was punished too harshly.”

Harry rolled his eyes then.

Reporter 2: “What is the situation between you and Headmaster Dumbledore? Everyone believes that you admire him. Not so?”

Harry: “I _did_ admire Dumbledore, until I learnt a few weeks ago that A, he _illegally_ appointed himself my magical guardian, back in 1981; B, as my supposed magical guardian, he has looted thousands of galleons from my trust vault with no justification; and C, the day after Voldemort murdered both my parents, Dumbledore gave me over to the quote-unquote care of my mother’s Muggle sister and her husband, even though both my mother’s will and my father’s will stated that Petunia and Vernon Dursley were not to get guardianship of me in any way, shape or form. There’s a lot more I could tell you, D through Z, but I’ll stop with this: I do not now trust Albus Dumbledore at all.”

Reporter 3: “Are you close to announcing who will be the future Lady Black? Or is Miss Granger the future Lady Black-Potter?”

Harry grinned and said, “Hermione, you want to take this?”

Hermione said, “Harry is close to announcing whom he will betroth besides me. Here’s a hint: She’s not a Gryffindor.”

Reporter 4: “So Susan Bones then?”

Harry and Hermione both grinned but did not reply.

****

**About 11:30 a.m.  
** **Potter Manor**

Fifteen minutes after Harry and Hermione had flooed back to Potter Manor, Hermione walked up to Harry, looking proud of herself. “I did it.”

Hermione drew her wand, then said “Height in digits,” as she made a wand-movement that Harry had not seen before.

A voice like a male BBC presenter said, “Four.”

Hermione bent at the waist, and lowered the wand to the floor. “Three ... two ... one ... nothing,” the unseen BBC presenter said.

Hermione resumed her normal posture, with her wand held normally. “Four,” the presenter said again.

“Let’s climb some stairs,” Hermione said.

Minutes later, Harry and Hermione, both panting, had reached the top floor of Potter Manor. When Hermione laid her wand-hand on the waist-high railing, the unseen BBC presenter said, “Five-one.”

“Height, silence,” Hermione said, then moved her wand higher and lower. The BBC presenter did not speak.

Harry said to Hermione, “I was worried whether you could complete the spell in six weeks. You did it in _one day_. Once again you _amaze_ me, Hermione.”

Harry then put his mouth where his flattery was, and snogged Hermione mightily.

****

Soon afterwards, Hermione taught Harry the tricky wand-movement for the Height In Digits charm, then he tried to cast the charm himself. For Harry, the wand’s height of “five-two” was announced by the same invisible BBC-presenter voice as when Hermione had cast the spell.

Ten minutes later, after both teens had walked down the stairs to the ground floor, Hermione gave Harry a five-foot-long parchment that represented the “bones” of the charm. Hermione explained—

If a charm’s name could be compared to the name of a recipe, the bones of the charm could be compared to the text of the recipe. If a charm’s name could be compared to a computer programme’s name, the bones of the charm compared to the programme’s source code. Since it was Hermione who had written the bones for the Height In Digits charm, Harry knew it would take him a while to translate Hermione’s words into Parseltongue—Hermione never practised _brevity_ whenever she picked up a quill.

Among the 73 pages in elderly Harry’s book-letter, he had written a tutorial for translating spells into Parseltongue, and a Parseltongue-English dictionary. Young Harry went into his bedroom, shut the door, pulled out the book-letter, and began translating Hermione’s words.

****

Harry finished the Parseltongue translation about 7 p.m. that same day. In Britain in July, at 7 p.m. he had several hours of sunlight left.

The wooden box on Potter Manor’s Quidditch pitch still was “warded” by the invisible, inflatable cylinder. Harry, by using his broom, his Parseltongue “See Wards” spell, and his Parseltongue-version “Height In Digits” charm, was able to discover that the height of the invisible, inflatable cylinder was _§nine-five-one§_ (951 feet).

Then Harry got curious, what the height of the permanent cylindrical wards for Potter Manor were. It turned out that they weren’t as energised as the wooden box’s wards—Potter Manor’s wards went up only 905 feet high.

By sunset, Harry was back in Potter Manor, floo-calling Bill to come by the next morning to do more experiments.

After Harry floo-called Bill, Hermione wanted Dobby to elf- _pop_ her back to the Granger house. Just before Hermione left, she said to Harry, “You’re not even sixteen years old, yet you know the most valuable secret in Wizarding Britain: where protective wards _don’t_ protect.”

Harry nodded. “It’s a big responsibility.”

****

**The next morning (Saturday, 20th July)**

Hermione, Daphne, Neville and Bill had returned to Potter Manor. Those four plus Harry were in the kitchen, drinking tea, when—

 _Pop_. Dobby appeared in the kitchen, next to Harry. Dobby had a Gringotts key poking out of the sock on his right foot; in one hand he was holding a fat sack of coins; in the other hand he was holding a thick stack of pound-sterling notes. Harry took the three things from Dobby and thanked the house-elf, who _pop_ ped away.

Harry pocketed the Gringotts key, then put the coins-sack and the stack of notes on the table in front of him. He looked at Daphne and Hermione. “Ladies, if you knew beforehand that I would battle Voldy at a certain place and a certain time, would you stand with me then, or would you seek safe shelter?”

“ _Pfft_ ,” Hermione said, “do you need to ask?”

“Stand with you,” Daphne said.

Hearing Daphne’s words, Neville’s eyebrows shot up.

Bill said, “This is ... quite Gryffindor of you, Heiress Greengrass.”

Daphne gave Bill a crooked smile. “You intended that as a compliment, so thank you.”

Harry slid the bag of coins across the kitchen table to Daphne, then walked over and placed the pound-notes on the table in front of Hermione.

The kitchen was silent; two young men and two young women stared at Harry in open curiosity.

Harry said, “I need only send one letter to my solicitor to pass on to Lord Greengrass, and another letter to my solicitor to pass on to Professor McGonagall, and my betrothals will be negotiated, except for the signatures. Daphne and Hermione, I want to announce my betrothals at the _Daily Prophet_ office in person, a few days from now—and I want both of you there with me. Expect to be photographed.”

Daphne asked, “And the money is for what, exactly?”

Harry said, “In your sack, Daphne, are a hundred galleons. Hermione has five hundred pounds, the Muggle equivalent. When we walk into the _Prophet_ offices, be wearing new robes or a new dress, new shoes and new jewellery. Maybe put up your hair. Figure that whatever photo or photos the _Prophet_ prints will be reprinted in _Witch Weekly_ and _Teen Witch Weekly_ , so don’t give their readers any cause to snicker at you.”

Hermione said, “You _want_ me dressed up Muggle, Harry? A summer dress, with stockings and heels? Not dress robes like what Daphne will be wearing? Or for this kind of money, maybe I should wear an evening gown instead?”

Harry slapped his forehead. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t clear. _Half_ of the money I gave you is to go towards what you wear to the _Daily Prophet_ offices. The other half of the money is for you each to have a second brand-new head-to-toe outfit, which I also want ready to wear when we three visit the _Prophet_.”

Bill looked confused. “Your two betrothed will be changing clothes when the _Prophet_ snaps their photos? Why do this?”

Harry wanted to slap his forehead again. “No, Daphne and Hermione won’t wear their second outfits till later, but I want all the dressmaking done earlier. And as for how I want Daphne’s second set of robes, and Hermione’s second dress or gown to look, I have firm ideas in mind....”

A minute later, Daphne and Hermione exchanged glances. Daphne asked, “Will two days be enough, if we pay extra for rush service?”

Hermione said, “Muggles will need longer. Three days?”

Harry said, “Let’s plan on our drop-in visit to the _Daily Prophet_ offices to be Wednesday afternoon, the 24th. Each of you have both outfits ready by then.”

Daphne and Hermione exchanged glances again. Hermione said, “Erm, Harry? The second dress you want made for me, the white dress. And the white dress robes for Daphne—are these to be our _wedding_ clothes? I thought we weren’t marrying till after seventh year.”

This time, Harry _did_ slap his forehead again. “No, they’re not for your weddings. But your specially-commissioned white clothing _will_ be for a special occasion—a day that neither of you shall ever forget.”

Then Harry looked at Daphne. “You advised me that, as the Boy Who Lived, to plan other people’s impressions of me whenever I’m in public. Also, you said, ‘Be theatrical.’ Now I’m taking your advice.”

Hermione looked at Daphne with a puzzled expression. Daphne shrugged, looking just as puzzled.

****

Hermione and Daphne each kissed Harry on the lips, then left Potter Manor—they each had dressmakers to visit. This left only Neville and Bill as Harry’s visitors.

Soon afterwards, the three young men walked out to the Quidditch pitch, to do more experiments with wards, using the wooden box and the wardstones that Bill had brought yesterday.

Yesterday, Harry was told, Bill had configured the wards in a “mother-daughter” arrangement: seven “daughter” wardstones in a circle that formed the base of the invisible, inflatable cylinder; and a “mother” wardstone in the centre that sent commands to the other seven wardstones. Harry had not noticed the “mother” wardstone yesterday because the wooden box had covered it up.

Today, Bill dropped the wards on the wooden box and set the seven outer wardstones aside. By using the remaining wardstone that still lay under the wooden box, Bill set up new wards and a new Fidelius charm that were shaped like a dome.

With a new Fidelius charm on the wooden box, instantly Harry forgot where the box had been before.

Bill confided the Secret of the wooden box’s exact location to Neville (but not to Harry), then Harry climbed on his broom and tried to sleuth out the wooden box’s location.

Harry failed utterly. Every square inch of the Quidditch pitch looked like it should; nowhere did Harry spot any dome-shaped distortion.

Then Harry and Neville tried, working together, to guide Harry so that he was hovering above the dome he could not see. This turned out to be a harder task than expected—Neville would suddenly start coughing and choking in the middle of a sentence. But eventually Neville assured Harry that he was above the wooden box.

Harry fired a Colour-Change Charm straight down.

All of Harry—his hair, his skin and his clothing—promptly turned purple. Harry’s broom also was purple. The wooden box, Neville informed purple Harry, was unchanged.

****

When Harry and his broom had regained the colours that Nature intended, and Harry had climbed off his broom, the three young men talked.

Harry said, “If Malfoy Manor has dome-shaped wards, there’s no point to me flying high. Flying high or flying low, I can’t outsmart the Fidelius and I can’t avoid the nasty wards, when those wards are dome-shaped.”

Bill shook his head. Bill told Harry the Secret, so that Harry could see the wooden box, then Bill muttered a Gobbledygook spell so that the dome-shaped ward-wall was semitransparent blue. Bill said, “Notice how the wall passes closer to the corners of the top of the box? Same with a building—the ward-wall passes close to the corners of the roof. This gives attackers on brooms an obvious place to attack. If the attackers on brooms can punch through the dome, then can punch through the roof, the attackers hold the advantage when fighting inside the house.”

“ _Dammit!_ ” Harry said. “If cylindrical wards have a weakness against high-flying attackers, and dome-shaped wards can be taken out by low-flying attackers, how do I defend Potter Manor?”

“Why not use both?” Neville asked. “Put a dome over Potter Manor, then put a cylinder around the dome.”

****

Bill took the seven wardstones that he had set aside, and placed them in a circle just outside the dome.

Then Bill took down the dome-shaped wards. Bill magically connected the eight wardstones in a “mother-daughter” configuration, but gave no power to those wards.

Bill had to Apparate away then, to fetch a ninth wardstone. After Bill returned, this ninth wardstone was placed on the ground so that it almost touched the “mother” wardstone. One minute later, the wooden box was double-shapes warded.

Harry got back onto his broom. He repeated his trick from yesterday, of rising on his broomstick and of feeling for the inflatable cylinder, till he could not feel the cylinder anymore. Harry then repeated his trick from yesterday, of rotating his broom then flying forward, till he suspected that he was inside the cylinder and was hovering over the wooden box.

But unlike yesterday, today Harry could not outsmart the Fidelius charm. The wooden box stayed invisible to Harry, no matter where he went on his broom or what he did.

Harry gave up then, with a smile. When he was back on the ground, he told Bill and Neville, “Lesson learnt: I can outsmart the Fidelius charm on cylindrical wards, but not on double-shape wards.”

Then Harry, grinning, looked at Bill: “One last thing I need for you to do, before I send you back to Gringotts: _Upgrade Potter Manor’s wards_ so that Lucius and Draco Malfoy can’t do to me what I plan to do to them!”


	16. Bellatrix v. Tonksatrix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a fan-fiction writer, I truly love JKR’s invention of _Felix felicis_ (“Liquid Luck”) potion. The effects last only an hour; but during that hour, I the writer am exempt from the ancient “No _deus ex machina_ ” rule.
> 
> A syndicated television show of the 1990s, popular in all English-speaking countries, was _Xena: Warrior Princess_. The show ran from 1995 to 2001.

**Meanwhile, elsewhere in Wizarding Britain  
** **Still Saturday, 20th July**

Owls delivered to subscribers, copies of this morning’s _Daily Prophet_. Two of the subscribers were Lucius Malfoy and Albus Dumbledore. Voldemort promptly “borrowed” Lucius’s copy of the wizarding newspaper before the blond-haired man had a chance to read it.

The big news that was reported was about Umbridge’s and Fudge’s trials in the Wizengamot, the “one-minute trial” of Harry Potter for the crime of casting an Unforgivable at Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry’s and Hermione’s verbal clash with Rita Skeeter after the trials and the Golden Duo’s improvised press conference afterwards.

Voldemort was annoyed that Fudge had been sent to Azkaban, because after Fudge’s release, Mr Green Bowler would never again be trusted with an important office. What’s the use of having a bribable official if he’s so far down the pecking order that he can’t do anything important after he’s bribed?

Voldemort was even more annoyed at the execution of Dolores Umbridge—a Pureblood Supremacist with an immoral heart, yet not a marked Death Eater, who was highly placed in the Ministry. Umbridge was the perfect person to carry out Voldemort’s wishes after he took over the Ministry. But sod it all, now this part of Voldemort’s plan had been burnt to ashes.

Voldemort was disappointed that Harry Potter had not named his second betrothed yet. How could Voldemort make plans to kidnap Potter’s second betrothed if he did not know the girl’s name or where she lived?

(Harry Potter’s second betrothed was not Susan Bones. This young Pureblood heiress was quoted in the _Prophet_ as saying that Harry Potter had not contacted her to discuss marriage.)

Meanwhile in Hogwarts Castle, Dumbledore mourned that Umbridge had been killed by Kiss, rather than thrown into Azkaban where she would have the time to repent of her evils. Dumbledore thought that Fudge’s sentence was fair.

Dumbledore thought that Harry Potter should have been fined and briefly imprisoned for attempting to _Crucio_ Bellatrix Lestrange. Albus’s “We should forgive and forget” philosophy _never_ had applied to Harry Potter, and never would, but Albus did not see the unfairness of his attitude.

Albus was _furious_ about what the _Daily Prophet_ had written about _him_ , Albus Dumbledore, the Leader of the Light—

“During Umbridge’s trial, it was clear, though puzzling, that Harry Potter scorned Albus Dumbledore. After the trial, Harry Potter informed the public _why_ he scorned Albus Dumbledore. Now we scorn Dumbledore too. The ‘Leader of the Light’ is a child abuser by proxy, and a thief.”

After reading this, Dumbledore was more determined than ever to get his hands on Harry and to bend the boy to the headmaster’s will. The longbeard’s plan still was that he would send Harry out to battle Voldemort and to die, followed by Dumbledore rushing in, defeating the now-exhausted Dark Lord and being proclaimed a hero (again)—and the headmaster refused to accept the lightning-bolt-scarred teen thwarting Albus’s plan for eternal glory.

****

Tonks owled Harry to write, “I now can both look like, and talk like, Aunt Bella.”

Harry immediately sent away Dobby to deliver a message to Tonks: “If you’re off work, go into work just long enough to grab your service pistol and to bring it home. If you’re at work now, take your service pistol with you when you finish your shift. As soon as both you and your service pistol are at home, call for Dobby. He has two things to give you.”

****

**The next morning (Sunday, 21st July)**

After Bill finished upgrading the wards on Potter Manor, he removed the wards on the wooden box, whilst Harry wrote a letter to Gringotts. Included in the letter were 1) an authorisation for 170 galleons and three knuts to be transferred from the Potter family vault to Bill’s vault; 2) Harry’s statement that the special project for which he had hired Bill, was complete; thus Gringotts was free to rehire Bill without compromising the goblins’ neutrality.

As Harry handed the letter to Bill, he said, “One hundred seventy galleons sounds like a lot of money, but for what I learnt because of your work, the money is a _bloody steal!_ ”

****

**An hour later, at Potter Manor**

In the book-letter that elderly Harry had written to young Harry, amongst the things written down was a list of Parseltongue spells. One of them was _§Point to Parsel§_ , which gave the distance in feet to where a Parseltongue spell had just been cast, and which created a floating green arrow that pointed towards the origin of the Parseltongue spell.

Alas, Harry had already discovered that when he tried to locate a just-cast Parseltongue spell that had been cast someplace under a Fidelius charm, Harry got invalid variations in the distance and bearing. When he sampled some of those vectors and tried to plot them on a map of Great Britain, the results were useless. One of his black dots on the map claimed that a Parseltongue spell had been cast in the North Sea.

But this morning, something different happened. Fifteen Parseltongue spells were cast behind a Fidelius charm; but suddenly all fifteen spells were mappable, and all fifteen spells were moving together.

Harry watched the fifteen Parseltongue spells—which by now Harry had figured out, caused black-smoke flying—move to London’s Diagon Alley, then end.

Fifteen Death Eaters had just made a surprise attack on Diagon Alley. Harry thought, _This time, it’ll be they who get the surprise_.

Harry summoned Dobby, and gave him messages to be _quickly_ delivered, to Tonks and to the Weasley twins.

Harry’s message to Tonks ended with “... _Don’t forget the 9-millimetre silver bullets and the Felix felicis potion_.”

(The Liquid Luck potion had been brewed in France and had been purchased in France by Fleur Delacour, with galleons out of Harry’s vault. Nobody in Wizarding Britain knew that Harry had a vial of this potion, and nobody in Wizarding Britain knew that Harry had given the potion-vial to Tonks.)

****

**Meanwhile, elsewhere in Wizarding Britain**

When newly-minted Aurors Second Class graduate from the Auror Academy, each new Auror is issued a convincing-fake police or constable badge for some British city, and each is offered a service pistol to carry (provided the Auror buys a holster for the pistol).

Almost all new Aurors decline the offered handgun; many, in fact, feel insulted by the offer—“Are you saying my wandwork isn’t good enough to put down a Dark Wizard?”

But rookie Auror Don’t-Call-Me-Nymphadora Tonks had accepted the offered pistol and, once a month thereafter during her Auror career, had taken her pistol to the Hit Wizards’ firing range.

Why do the DMLE Hit Wizards have a firing range? Because each Hit Wizard is _required_ to carry and to maintain a service pistol, and to be an Exceeds Expectations shot with his pistol. The reason for this rule is a simple one: Whilst a cast spell moves faster than a running man, a bullet moves fifty-six times as fast as a spell.

So for several years now, Tonks once a month had taken her pistol to the Hit Wizards’ firing range. Nowadays Tonks was merely an Acceptable-level shooter; but on the other hand, the Auror Corps did not require her to be even a Dreadful-level shooter. Tonks had improved noticeably since her first time on the firing range; she felt content with this.

When Dobby appeared in front of Tonks, she was in her flat in Muggle London. Hurriedly Tonks metamorphed herself to look like Aunt Bella, transfigured her Muggle clothes to look like Aunt Bella’s distinctive black robes, then ran into her bedroom. She pulled her service pistol out from under her pillow, and hurried to swap out the gun’s regular bullets for silver bullets. Once this was done, Tonks set the safety switch on the pistol, shoved the pistol into a pocket of her black robes, then gulped down the entire _Felix felicis_ potion.

Tonks looked into her bedroom’s full-length mirror; Bellatrix Lestrange looked back. Tonks giggled her aunt’s giggle, then said with her aunt’s voice, “Ooh, we are about to _have fun_.”

Tonksatrix waited till the Liquid Luck potion’s effects hit her brain, making her feel invincible; then she Apparated to Diagon Alley.

****

**Meanwhile, in Diagon Alley, London**

Harry and Dobby appeared in front of two Death Eaters who were dragging a Muggle-dressed girl towards an alley. Harry yelled at Dobby, “Save the child!”

Harry thought, _Let’s see whether the_ —

“It’s Pot—!” a tall, thin Death Eater yelled. Harry’s spell beheaded him.

— _prophecy’s words, “Either must die at the hand of the other,” mean_ —

A different Death Eater pointed his wand at Harry and yelled, “ _Avada Kedavra!_ ” Harry sidestepped the green spell, then exploded his would-be killer’s chest.

— _what I think those words mean_.

Seemingly from nowhere came a _clang_ sound near Harry. The sound was quiet enough that only a few people could have heard the sound; only Harry and the Weasley twins knew what the sound meant.

 _Bang!_ A pause. _Bang!_ Harry heard two gunshots from ahead, close nearby.

The Death Eaters froze, shocked at the distinctive sound of a Muggle firearm in their midst. Harry was merely surprised, not shocked, so recovered faster. In the next second, Harry dropped another Death Eater.

Then Harry found himself facing an unmasked woman in black. Between the woman’s curly wand and her evil grin, Harry was sure that he was facing Bellatrix, not Tonksatrix.

Bellatrix alternated between looking at Harry in front of her and something behind her.

****

**Seconds earlier, elsewhere in Diagon Alley**

_Pop_. Tonks-as-Bellatrix appeared close to the group of Death Eaters; but by amazing luck, all of the masked and black-robed men had their backs to her. The sounds of spellfire and masked bigots yelling, covered up the sound of Tonksatrix’s Apparating into Diagon Alley.

But two Death Eaters, if they were here, would not be wearing masks: Fenrir Greyback and (the genuine) Bellatrix Lestrange. Tonksatrix’s assignment was to eliminate one or both of them.

Tonksatrix ran forwards, past the cannon-fodder Death Eaters, and ran around a corner. She came face to face with Fenrir Greyback. Each of his powerful hands was gripping the arm of a crying child. Seeing the woman he clearly thought was Bellatrix, Fenrir grinned a sexy smile.

“ _Oiii_ , Fenrir,” said Tonksatrix, smiling back, “I’ve a _message_ for you.”

Tonksatrix kept the smile as she pulled out her pistol and thumbed off the safety. “The message is, ‘Go to hell.’ ”

 _Bang_ went the pistol at point-blank range, right into Fenrir’s chest. He gasped loudly as he dropped. Whilst he still was falling, before he hit the ground, Tonksatrix— _bang_ —silver-bulleted the big man in the forehead.

The two children pulled themselves free of the dead werewolf’s grip and ran away.

Meanwhile, a shocked male voice said, “Bella just shot Greyback!”

A different male voice snarled, “That isn’t Bella, that’s Polyjuice!” But before his wand killed Tonksatrix, her wand put an overpowered piercing hex into his centre of mass.

Then suddenly the Death Eaters went quiet and still. A baby-talk woman’s voice broke the quiet: “Ooh, Harry Potter in front of me, and my goody-goody niece behind me. Decisions, decisions.”

Tonksatrix looked over at the source of the voice. Aunt Bella was giving her a goofy smile, but the madwoman’s eyes were deadly.

Though Aunt Bella’s upper body was facing her niece, her lower body was facing sideways to both Tonksatrix and Harry Potter. Bellatrix’s right foot pointed towards Tonksatrix, and the madwoman’s left foot pointed towards the left and was planted just in front of her right foot.

The entire strange stance was a dancer’s pose; the main reason that Aunt Bella had not been killed before now was that in duels, the madwoman had the moves of an evil ballerina.

At the moment, Bellatrix had twisted her hips so that her upper body was facing her niece. But, Tonksatrix knew, it would take Aunt Bella less than a second to be facing Harry Potter, because Bellatrix would not waste time moving her feet; Bellatrix need only twist her hips in the other direction.

Now Tonksatrix intended to face Aunt Bella and to duel her. But the young metamorphmagus tripped and fell whilst moving her feet.

****

Two green spells passed overhead, at the space where Tonksatrix’s head would have been if she had not tripped. One of those AK spells, the young metamorphmagus was certain, had been sent by her evil aunt.

Tonksatrix had a pistol in her left hand and her personal wand in her right hand. She put out her wand-grasping right fist to stop her fall—

The plan failed, because Tonksatrix’s right arm lacked the upper-body strength she needed now. Tonksatrix’s upper body was not prevented from hitting the ground, her upper body merely hit the ground at a slower speed, and her body spun as it fell that last one and a half feet. Tonksatrix’s left hip, left shoulder and left elbow hit the ground.

Tonksatrix’s left hand still held the pistol. When her left elbow hit the ground, the pistol— _bang_ —fired. The metamorphmagus Auror could not begin to guess where the silver bullet had gone.

Tonksatrix was mortified with embarrassment—she _hated_ stumbling and tripping—and frightened for her life. She figured that, even with the supposed help of _Felix felicis_ , she had maybe five seconds to live.

She did not take the time to see where her wand was pointed, but yelled “ _Diffindo!_ ”, shoving her magic into her wand. If she was about to die, she would make _damned_ sure that her Severing Charm would take one of the tossers with her!

A Death Eater’s wand-arm was parted from his body; blood began spurting sideways as the man screamed. Tonksatrix’s _Reducto_ removed all thoughts of mortal terror from the man’s head by destroying his head.

As Tonksatrix hurried to stand, she wondered, _Why hasn’t Aunt Bella AK’d me in the back?_

****

Bellatrix Lestrange somehow managed to sidestep every one of Harry’s deadly spells, even when she was looking elsewhere than at him (like right now). Harry was annoyed. But then, Harry dodged all of Bellatrix’s spells, so they were even.

Beyond the real Bellatrix, a woman who looked like Bellatrix’s twin, tripped and was falling down. Harry thought, _Tonks is in danger, and I can’t help her!_

Bellatrix twisted her upper body so that she again was facing Harry. She smirked as she said, “Clumsy Nymmie!”

 _Bang_.

Bellatrix’s forehead exploded. Without Bellatrix’s eyes shifting direction or her facial expression changing, she silently collapsed limp on the pavement.

****

Thanks to the Liquid Luck potion that Tonksatrix had drunk, Harry saw Tonksatrix stand up without being hit by Death Eaters’ deadly spells.

As she stood, Tonksatrix giggled her mad aunt’s giggle and said in her mad aunt’s voice, “Poor ickle Deathies. You lot keep shooting spells at me and _missing_. Ooh, it’s my _lucky_ day. But I”— _bang_ —“ _don’t_ miss.”

Harry, meanwhile, was taking full advantage of the part of the prophecy that hinted that nobody could kill him before Voldemort got his chance.

The last Death Eater alive did something unexpectedly courageous. Though he was limping from broken bones, he lunged forward, slapped a rope against Bellatrix’s corpse, and said “Purity!” Both he and dead Bellatrix were Portkeyed away.

This ended the battle.

****

Fifteen rampaging Death Eaters, expecting to face only frightened witches and wizards in Diagon Alley, plus maybe Aurors firing stunners, instead faced deadly Harry Potter and deadly Tonksatrix. Only the one Death Eater Portkeyed away, fourteen Death Eaters died (including Fenrir Greyback and Bellatrix Lestrange), and neither Harry nor Tonksatrix suffered so much as a scratch.

The Aurors still had not shown up when Tonks (who now looked like herself again, pink hair and all) and Harry removed the masks from Death Eater corpses. Dead and unmasked were Rodolphus Lestrange and Draco Malfoy.

Dead Fenrir Greyback, it turned out, had been shot in the heart and shot in the forehead.

George and Fred Weasley Disillusioned themselves beside Harry. They each were holding something that looked vaguely gun-shaped, except the barrel was not much bigger around then a nail.

George said to Harry, “We shot all the wankers with the Parselmagic sand trackers—”

Fred now: “—but then you two killed most of them—”

“—which is a right waste of our valuable time, if you ask me.”

Fred again: “Still, I _did_ tag the Death Muncher bloke who got away—”

“—whilst _I_ tagged sweet, kind Bella—”

“—so we’re still ‘on track,’ so to speak,” said Fred.

All in all, Harry decided, it was a good day for the good guys, and a bad day for Voldy and his minions.

****

**Fifteen minutes later, back at Potter Manor**

Young Harry discovered that elderly Harry, in his writeups of various Parselmagic spells, had not mentioned (or had not known) one important fact—

If you put a Parselmagic tracking charm on a grain of sand, then you send the grain of sand to someplace that is under a Fidelius charm, the pointed-to “location” that you get, constantly shifts, and varies by up to ten miles.

Fortunately for Harry, if he knew that an active Fidelius charm was within ten miles of a certain point on a map, he knew exactly how to locate that Fidelius charm (if the Fidelius charm were not dome-shaped).

****

**Sunday afternoon, 21st July**

Harry was flying 1,001 feet above the ground, headed towards the general location of Malfoy Manor, and Harry was the most frightened he had ever felt in his life.

For one thing, Harry was about a fifth of a mile above the ground. If he fell off his broom—or was _knocked_ off his broom—Harry would have between seven and eight seconds to improvise a magical self-rescue before he hit the ground. If Harry _did_ hit the ground, the sure result would be instant death.

What also frightened Harry now was the danger of Harry on his broom running into invisible Malfoy Manor wards. Harry was ninety-six feet above the top of Potter Manor’s wards-wall, but he had no way of guessing how high up Malfoy Manor’s wards-wall went. Harry was _sure_ that if he bumped into the Malfoy Manor wards-wall with hostile intent, the result would be “a most painful death.”

Thirdly, Harry was frightened because he faced the danger that if he could achieve hovering above Malfoy Manor on a broom, he might then be attacked by Death Eaters on brooms because Harry’s Disillusionment Charm wasn’t as invisible as he thought it was. If Harry had to fight as one against many, he would have _no hope_ if the air above Malfoy Manor was the site of an aerial dogfight on brooms.

To distract himself now, Harry made his magic two-way-radio headset call Potter Manor. Then Harry spoke in a code that only magicals could hear (because his “radio” worked by magic), but Pureblood magicals never would understand the conversation—

“Gabrielle, hello Gabrielle, are you there? It’s Joxer.” _Harry Potter calling Base. Come in, Base_.

Seconds later, Harry heard Hermione’s voice: “Hello Joxer, this is Gabrielle. What are you up to?” _Hello Harry Potter, this is Base_.

“I’m looking for Xena. I want to give her a hug.” _I’m still searching for Malfoy Manor_.

“Erm, Joxer, I don’t think Xena wants a hug from you. She might slice you with her _chakram_.” Meaning, _the people in Malfoy Manor won’t like you locating them. They’ll get violent if they detect you_.

“I’ll be careful, Gabrielle.”

****

A few minutes later, Hermione said to Harry by magic two-way radio, “Something tells me you’re near Xena. Look for her riding her horse Argo. I think she’ll stay there till 12:30.” _You’ve entered the ten-mile-diameter “Circle of somewhere” on the map that is caused when a Parselmagic tracking charm goes someplace that is inside a Fidelius charm. The centre of the ten-mile circle is 15 degrees to the right of straight ahead_.

Harry said, “Gotcha.” _I acknowledge I’m at the edge of the circle, and will begin to search for Malfoy Manor within the circle_.

It was difficult for Harry to say those words calmly. He was scared now.

Harry turned his broom to the right by 105 degrees and began his aerial-lawn-mowing find-Fidelius trick.

****

**Minutes later**

Harry was motionless in all six directions. He was so happy, he wanted to sing. _I’m alive, and it looks like I’ll_ stay _alive!_

But Harry did not sing aloud; instead, he said into his headset, “Oi, Gabrielle, I just hugged Xena.” _I am above two tracker-charmed grains of sand, with no Fidelius Charm hiding the trackers’ exact location. Which in turn means I am above Malfoy Manor, which now I can see, and now I am above and inside the Malfoy Manor cylindrical wards-wall_.

Hermione replied, “Xena let you hug her? Oh my, this is something I need to record in my scroll. Let me find my quill.” _I acknowledge you floating above Malfoy Manor. I will try to plot your current location on a map of Great Britain_.

Harry was dreading that Hermione would say next, “My quill got snapped in my saddlebag” ( _I was unable to map your location_ ). Instead, after a time of silence, Hermione said, “It’s all written down in my neatest cursive.” _Your current location is mapped_.

Then Hermione asked, her voice worried, “Is Ares in sight?” _Is anyone flying out of Malfoy Manor with plans to kill you in battle?_

Harry grinned. “Nope, no sign of Ares at all.” _I see no sign that anyone in Malfoy Manor knows I’m here_.

Then Harry said, “Gabrielle, I think I’ll head back to camp now so I can tell you all about hugging Xena.” _I’m headed back to Base_.

Hermione said, “I look forward to hearing your tale, Joxer.” Then Hermione’s voice got mischievous: “By the way, Aphrodite says hello.”

Harry heard Daphne’s voice yell, “ _What?_ ”

Harry was grinning like a loon, because he had just accomplished a dangerous mission; so he felt in the mood for making a joke. He said over the magic radio, “You’d let me know, wouldn’t you, Gabrielle, if you and Aphrodite had _subtext_ , right?” _You’d let me know, wouldn’t you, Hermione, if you and Daphne felt lesbian attraction for each other?_

****

When Harry returned to Potter Manor, both Hermione and Daphne hugged him as if he were a returning spy-aeroplane pilot. Both girls also snogged him mightily.

“So,” Hermione said, “tomorrow, or Tuesday at the latest, you’ll fly over Malfoy Manor and kill the Dark Lord, right?”

“I could,” Harry agreed, “but that’s not what I’m planning. I plan not merely to _kill_ the Dark Lord, I plan to _vanquish_ him. And I’m going to need _mystique_ for the vanquishing, but it’ll take me a little bit to set up the mystique.”

Daphne beamed at Harry.

Hermione said, “Erm, I’m lost.”

Harry smiled at both girls. “I’m borrowing ideas from both of you. Hermione, you’re a planner; well, I’ve made a _plan_ for Voldy and Dumbles, and I’m carrying out this plan. But Daphne suggested I build up a _mystique_ by being _theatrical;_ and becoming theatrical, and gaining mystique by the time I face Voldy, is another part of my plan.”

Harry smiled in reassurance. “You watch, you two. By the time I turn sixteen on 31st July, both Voldy and Dumbles will be yesterday’s news.”


	17. Muggle London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the Death Eaters who was killed by Harry Potter and Tonks was Sam Flint, who was elderly Daphne’s first husband in the original timeline.
> 
> This chapter refers to an earlier meeting between Severus Snape, Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy, at Snape’s house in Spinner’s End, in which Snape was persuaded to take an Unbreakable Vow to kill Dumbledore if Draco would fail to kill the headmaster. This meeting took place in _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ Chapter 2. Canon does not give a date for the meeting, but it can be inferred to be in early July, 1996. I arbitrarily have assigned this meeting a date of 9th July.

**Still Sunday afternoon, 21st July  
** **In Diagon Alley, London**

Kingsley Shacklebolt could not believe his eyes. And now, after hearing the Weasley twins’ tale, Shacklebolt could not believe his ears either.

The Aurors had Apparated into Diagon Alley, expecting to face off against Death Eaters in another life-or-death battle.

But instead of the arriving Aurors hearing spellfire, the taunts of Death Eaters and the screams of civilians, the Aurors had arrived hearing only the cawing of crows. Within seconds, the Aurors had come across a quiet crowd of civilians, all looking at something.

The “something” turned out to be thirteen _dead_ Death Eaters on the ground, and a shop wall that was splattered with blood and grey specks. Amongst the dead, Kingsley noted three men in particular: a young man who looked like the younger son of Linus Flint, the blond-haired tosser who was the son of Lucius Malfoy, and _Fenrir Greyback_ (who had died by two gunshots).

Witnesses claimed that all this carnage had been achieved by only two people: Harry Potter and a mysterious Polyjuiced woman who looked like Bellatrix Lestrange.

Now one of the Weasley twins pulled on Kingsley’s sleeve. “We need to talk to you—”

“—but not where other Aurors can hear,” the other twin said. Both twins looked serious.

****

Kingsley walked the twins about thirty yards away from the other Aurors. As the three men walked, one of the twins said, “Where is Auror Tonks? You two always work together.”

Shacklebolt was puzzled now, because the twin who just had spoken was grinning, as though he knew a delightful secret.

Kingsley answered the question: “Tonks isn’t here now because she has the day off.”

Now it was the other twin who was grinning like he knew a secret: “Oh, too bad. Poor Tonks has missed _all_ the excitement.”

Annoyed, Kingsley demanded, “So what do you two want to tell me that’s so secret?”

The twins answered—

“Bellatrix—the real one—isn’t lying there because—”

“—the one Death Eater still alive Portkeyed her out of—”

“—there. But she was dead when he took her.”

“How do you know this?” Kingsley pressed. “Why do you think she was dead, not _Stupefy_ ’d?”

“We saw her head explode—”

“—right after the other Bella fell down.”

“The fake Bella’s gun went off, and we figure—”

“—our favourite madwoman was shot in the back—”

“—of the head.”

The twins said in chorus: “It was disgusting to see.”

“Wait,” said Kingsley, as he felt a hunch. “The Polyjuiced Bella fell down? Did someone trip her?”

Now both twins were grinning. The twin on the right said, “Yes, the _Polyjuiced_ woman hit the ground, but we can’t tell you why.”

The other twin said, “We were a bit busy at the time.”

Kingsley asked, “You were helping Harry and To—the woman fight Death Eaters?”

“Kingsley!” the twin on the left said, in a tone of exaggerated disappointment. “Fight, _us?_ You know we never do the _expected_ thing.”

The twins then explained that during the firefight, they were both Disillusioned and were shooting Parselmagic tracking charms, which each was attached to a grain of sand, at every Death Eater.

Now both twins looked at Kingsley with deadly serious expressions. The twin on the left said, “You can’t write down _anywhere_ that we saw Bellatrix die, because so far as everyone else is concerned, we weren’t there. You also can’t write down that Harry ordered us to shoot tracking charms at the wankers.”

“He’s right,” the other twin agreed. “Anything _juicy_ written down in any Ministry report, we figure Voldy knows in less than a day.”

“I promise,” said Kingsley, “I’ll leave you two out of it. One last question: was the Polyjuiced woman carrying a blue wand?”

Now the twins were grinning again. “Wouldn’t a blue wand mean—”

“—she was an Auror? No, she was carrying a regular brown wand.”

After the twins walked away, Kingsley thought, _If it had been Albus who had surprised fifteen Death Eaters today, now all the Death Eaters would be laughing and drinking firewhisky, back in Malfoy Manor, and all the dead people here would be Muggle-borns, blood-traitors and Aurors. Instead, it’s the bad folks who are dead, whilst innocent people are healthy. The Order of the Phoenix and the Aurors both are better off with Harry Potter leading the Order_.

****

**An hour later, in Malfoy Manor**

The only Death Eater to survive the disaster in Diagon Alley had been a student in Snape’s house of Slytherin until a few weeks ago.

The youngster, Paulus Rookwood, had sat, less than a month ago, for his N.E.W.T. exams; a week after this, he had raped and killed a Muggle uni student, in order to qualify for his Dark Mark. An hour ago, this newly-marked Death Eater youth had braved death by either Harry Potter or the false Bellatrix, in order to bring the corpse of the genuine Bellatrix back to Malfoy Manor—

—but then the lad had been AK’d by Voldemort, after the youth had told the Dark Lord about today’s misadventures. Voldemort had not taken well the news that with only one exception, all of his Death Eaters had died at the hands of Harry Potter and a Bellatrix impersonator, and these deaths included Bellatrix and Fenrir.

Upon learning of his own son’s death, Lucius Malfoy had sworn a painful death for Harry Potter. Even before Voldemort had threatened Lucius—“Potter is _mine_ , do you understand? _Mine!_ ”—Snape had rolled his eyes at Lucius acting like a drama queen.

But now, after taking a full hour to calm down, the Dark Lord ordered everyone except Snape gone from his throne room.

As soon as only two people were left in the room, Voldemort demanded of Snape, “Was this Dumbledore’s idea? Was Potter following Dumbledore’s orders?”

“Impossible,” Snape calmly replied. “The headmaster would never give orders to kill Death Eaters, even in self-defence; and Potter lately has refused any control by the headmaster.”

“So no stunners, no asking for surrender, Potter killing anyone who tried to kill him or the Polyjuiced woman—these all were Potter’s ideas?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“And Potter’s killing of Draco Malfoy, do you think this was self-defence or vengeance?”

“Self-defence,” Snape replied.

“Explain.”

Snape then explained to Voldemort, the relationship between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Every time that Snape had witnessed a fight between the two boys break out, Draco had been the aggressor, and Potter always had stopped fighting once it had been clear that Draco had been defeated. At this point, Snape always had pushed for the Potter boy’s punishment, because A, the boy was James Potter’s spitting image, and so Snape disliked him on general principles; and B, the headmaster’s “everyone deserves forgiveness” policies meant that evil troublemakers were never to be punished.

Snape admitted to Voldemort what he never had admitted at Hogwarts: that Potter never had deserved any of the detentions that had resulted from his fights with Draco.

“...In short,” Snape concluded, “even if Potter somehow had known that one of the men behind the Death Eater masks was my godson, I am sure that Potter would not have tried to kill Draco until Draco first tried to kill him. Potter is not vicious, and he does not lose his self-control. The same could not be said of my godson.”

Eventually Voldemort convinced himself that Potter’s great victory earlier today was a freak occurrence, a one-off event. Snape did not argue, but he did not agree either.

What Snape decided was this: _What if Draco has taught Potter that, when faced with an implacable enemy, continually playing defence gains you nothing but your own eventual death? What if Potter now is doing what Dumbledore refused to do, planning attacks on the Dark Lord?_

_If this is how “the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord” is fighting, life has just become much more challenging for the Death Eaters, for Voldemort and for me._

****

**The next morning (Monday, 22nd July)**

Albus Dumbledore never scowled; he was too conscious of his public image. But as he read this morning’s _Daily Prophet_ , he _wanted_ to scowl, fiercely enough to frighten a troll. Half of today’s newspaper coverage was about the killing of Death Eaters in Diagon Alley by Harry Potter and “Fake Bellatrix.”

Dumbledore wondered why nobody amongst Master Auror Shacklebolt, Senior Auror Hestia Jones and Auror First Class Tonks, all three of whom were Order of the Phoenix members, had given the headmaster a “heads-up” yesterday about Harry’s killing spree. Why did Dumbledore need to read this morning’s _Prophet_ to find out what Harry had done? But then Dumbledore dismissed the thought—undoubtedly all the Aurors had been busy yesterday.

According to the _Daily Prophet_ , Fenrir Greyback and Rodolphus Lestrange were dead at the scene. Bellatrix Lestrange (the real one) was reported dead. Many current and former Slytherin students were dead at the scene, including Samuel Flint and Draco Malfoy.

Dumbledore squeezed his eyes shut, mourning all the misguided young men who had been killed before they turned to the Light. _Harry_ had done this—Harry and Hermione.

(The _Prophet_ had made wild guesses about who “Fake Bellatrix” might be. But to Albus, it was obvious that if Harry handed Miss Granger a vial of Polyjuice and a loaded Muggle weapon, Miss Granger would follow Harry into cold-blooded murder without a qualm. Albus Dumbledore had no doubt at all: “Fake Bellatrix” was actually Hermione Granger.)

Dumbledore thought, _Harry should be ashamed of himself for taking advantage of that overly-trusting Muggle-born girl, to lead her into unforgiveness and murder_.

Harry was going dark, it was obvious to Dumbledore; and Harry needed to be saved from himself. If gentle words would not turn Harry from his path to evil, the Greater Good required that more _forceful_ measures needed to be taken.

Dumbledore made plans.

****

**Later**

Dumbledore sent Fawkes to deliver a parchment to Harry with the message, “Harry, I must speak to you immediately about an urgent matter.” The message was booby-trapped with a mild Compulsion charm so that Harry would pick up the parchment and read it aloud; and with a Portkey to the Headmaster’s office that activated when Harry spoke the last word, _matter_.

Once Harry would be surprise-transported to Dumbledore’s office, Dumbledore planned to find out how Harry killed all those Death Eaters so quickly, then planned to Obliviate the knowledge from Harry’s mind so the boy could never do such a barbaric thing again.

****

What actually happened then, turned out to be a bit different.

Instead of Harry being magically brought to Dumbledore’s lair, Harry got Dobby and Kreacher to elf- _pop_ Dumbledore to the Grimmauld Place cellar and into the cellar’s dungeon, naked.

Naked Dumbledore was put inside an eight-feet-by-eight-feet-by-eight-feet cage; just outside the cage were two grinning house-elves, and a chair that had all of Dumbledore’s clothing piled upon it.

(The excuse that Kreacher gave for all of Dumbledore’s clothing being piled on the chair outside his cage, instead of being worn on Dumbledore’s body inside the cage, was that Dumbledore had hidden Portkeys embedded in his clothing.)

Kreacher said to the defenceless headmaster, “Longbeard tried to sneak into Black Family townhouse six days ago. Good news: Where you wanted to go is where you are now, and you are Master Lord Black-Potter’s _special_ guest.”

Dumbledore gulped.

Dumbledore soon learnt that Black Family magic on the cage bars meant that he was compelled to answer, truthfully and completely, every question he was asked by a house-elf. The naked headmaster told the house-elves many, many diamonds of information that before, he had always kept secret.

Harry ordered the house-elves to Obliviate all of Dumbledore’s memories of today. Then Dobby elf- _pop_ ped Dumbledore back into his office in Hogwarts Castle. At Harry’s request, Dobby vanished the office’s most recent copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , so that today’s chain of events would not repeat themselves.

****

**Meanwhile, in Muggle London**

This morning, Harry had owled Hermione, Daphne and Neville to tell them, “I have some errands to run in Muggle London. I’d enjoy your company. Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron at 10 a.m.?” (To Hermione’s note, Harry had added, “If you say yes, Dobby will be your ‘chauffeur’ to the Leaky.”)

All three of Harry’s friends said yes; so at 10:04 a.m., Harry led his three friends out of the Leaky Cauldron and to the kerb of Charing Cross Road.

Hermione was happy and smiling. Neville and Daphne looked nervous.

Harry pointed to where a taxicab was parked just to their right. Through the windscreen, Harry saw the taxi driver sitting behind the steering wheel and looking at the teens. Harry said to his friends, “These two parking spaces right here have Muggle Notice-Me-Not and Muggle Avoidance charms on them. If you come out here and find anyone parked in those parking spaces, the driver is a squib, or else a Muggle-born who has left the magical world.”

Daphne asked, “Does this happen a lot, Muggle-borns going back to acting Muggle?”

Both Harry and Hermione said, “Yes.”

****

**When everyone was inside the taxi**

Harry was sitting to the driver’s left; Hermione sat behind the driver, whilst Neville and Daphne sat to Hermione’s left.

“Where can I take you folks?” the driver asked. Harry noted that he spoke with a “Pureblood accent”—the same accent as what Neville and Daphne had, as well as Draco, Pansy, and the Patil twins.

Harry pulled a business card from his shirt pocket. “Please take us to Reginald Smythe’s Gentlemen’s Clothiers,” then Harry read off an address.

Hermione giggled. “With a name like _that_ , I’m guessing they don’t sell blue jeans and t-shirts!”

The taxi driver laughed. “In _that_ part of London? Not hardly.”

As soon as the taxi pulled out into Charing Cross Road traffic, Harry asked, “Neville? Daphne? Either of you ever been out in Muggle London before?”

“ _Harry!_ ” Hermione hissed. “The _Statute!_ ”

“It’s all right, miss,” the driver said. “The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy doesn’t stop you from mentioning magic near me, because I’m a squib.” He rotated the inside mirror to look at Daphne. “You look like Opal Bulstrode. Are you related?”

Daphne, looking stunned, replied, “I’m her daughter.”

Neville said, “Erm, to answer your question, Harry—no, I’ve never been in Muggle London before.”

Daphne said, “When I was in primary school, we once rode through Muggle London in a carriage. We weren’t allowed to get out of the carriage; and the carriage had a silencing charm on it, we were told, so that Muggles outside the carriage couldn’t hear what we said. We were disappointed we didn’t see any witch-burnings.”

“Oh, blimey,” Hermione muttered.

Harry asked, “So, driver, now that you’ve seen both the magical world and the Muggle world, what do you like about the Muggle world?”

“Computers!” the taxi driver answered. “At home I have a PC clone that runs Windows 95, and it’s _brilliant!_ ”

Neville said, “Hermione, _help?_ ”

Hermione said, “A computer is a Muggle machine that runs off electricity, and it acts like it can think. It _doesn’t_ think, but it acts like it can. On a computer, you can play games, keep financial records and write essays that print out being neat and legible—no ink spots.”

The driver nodded. “I relax in the evening by writing programmes—programmes are like spells for a computer. I wrote a programme recently called LEVIOSA. It creates random bubbles that rise up from the bottom of the screen, but I can grab a bubble with my mouse and drag the bubble around the screen. It’s just like you lot can point at a real bubble with your wand and make the bubble move around.”

Hermione smiled at the back of the driver’s head. “Programming is tricky to learn. Be proud that you’ve learnt it, sir.”

The driver said, “I also use my computer to access the Internet. The Internet—how to describe it?—lets you send messages, with lots of words and pictures, anywhere in the world at 186 thousand miles per second. Think of international Portkeys, that aren’t restricted by number, aren’t restricted by who gets one, and lets you travel _from_ anywhere in the world, _directly to_ anywhere in the world—and the only restriction is that you only can Portkey to where you’re standing in front of cork message boards. You can Portkey to a message board in Buenos Aires, Argentina, and you can read the message board and even add your own messages to the message board, as easily as walking into another room of your flat.”

“I suppose,” Daphne said dismissively, “this would be interesting if you couldn’t Portkey to Buenos Aires _for real_.”

“Ah, but here’s the rub, young magicals. If you really think there are witch-burnings in London in the late twentieth century, then you will scorn Muggle computers too. And the Muggle internet. But you scorn these things at your peril. Because thanks to the internet, you need only _one Muggle on the planet_ who discovers that magic is real, and within hours, _thousands_ of Muggles know the secret. Maybe this first Muggle witnesses two drunken wizards shooting spells at each other, then he writes on the internet about what he sees. Obliviating him afterwards, if you even can find him, won’t solve your problem of Muggles now knowing about the wizarding world.”

“That’s ridiculous!” said Daphne. “Now you’re fear-mongering.”

“No,” said Hermione, looking shaken, “he’s right. As computers get cheaper and cheaper, more and more Muggles will own a computer, so more and more Muggles will surf the internet. Which means that when the day comes when one Muggle knows about the magical world without us telling him, soon _all_ the Muggles will know, and this _will_ happen during our lifetimes. Which is an event the wizarding world”—Hermione locked eyes with Neville and Daphne—“absolutely is not prepared for.”

****

**A half-hour later  
** **Inside Reginald Smythe’s Gentlemen’s Clothiers**

Harry at the moment was wearing a white dress shirt (that required cufflinks), and grey wool slacks. He announced to his friends, “Hopefully this is the final fitting.”

When Harry and the tailor agreed that the slacks and the white shirt both fit Harry perfectly, Harry pulled on a grey dress coat—a grey _swallow-tailed_ dress coat.

Whilst the tailor chequed the tailcoat’s fit, Hermione asked Harry, “Are you, erm, going to a wedding?” What she clearly meant was, _Are you getting married soon, Harry, and you haven’t told me?_

Harry answered, “No, I’m taking Daphne’s advice: I’m creating a mystique by acting theatrical, and dressing this way will help do this.”

Daphne beamed.

Minutes later, Harry had paid for the slacks, shirt and swallow-tailed coat, and had paid for a royal-blue bow tie; and Harry was asking one of the shop’s salesmen to teach him how to tie the bow tie. Twenty minutes after this, the four magical teens were outside Reginald Smythe’s shop, with Harry carrying a shopping bag.

As Harry was trying to hire his second taxicab of the day, Hermione quietly asked him, “How will buying a swallowtail coat help you fight Voldemort?”

Harry quietly replied, “It won’t help me fight Voldy, but it _will_ help me vanquish him.”

****

Harry’s friends naturally assumed that the taxi that Harry hired, would take the four of them either back to Charing Cross Road or to a Muggle restaurant with tasty food. Not quite.

After Reginald Smythe’s shop, but before Sahib House of Curry, the four teens were taxied to Secret Self Costume Shop.

Harry’s friends were confused by Harry going to this particular shop, because British magicals did not fancy Halloween costume parties like American Muggles did; and in any case, Halloween was more than three months away.

Harry merely smiled mysteriously and explained that what he bought here also would help him “vanquish” Voldemort. Hermione, Daphne and Neville all responded with puzzled faces.

****

**Inside Secret Self Costume Shop**

Daphne glared at a mannequin in the shop. “Harry,” she said, “is this how Mug—how _some people_ think witches dress?”

The female mannequin wore a black, nylon, pointy witch’s hat on her head. On her feet, she wore black, quite high-heeled, open-toed shoes.

In between her hat and her shoes, the mannequin wore a tight-fitting, half-sleeved, black dress. The bottom of the dress had a zigzag hemline to suggest that the dress was in tatters; the bottom of the zigzags ended two inches above the mannequin’s knees, whilst the top of the zigzags rose almost as high as the mannequin’s crotch. A plunging V-neckline revealed cleavage.

Resting against the mannequin’s open hand was the handle of a straw broom. In a bin on the floor next to the mannequin, four more straw brooms were on offer.

Before Harry spoke to answer Daphne’s question, Hermione spoke: “I’m coming back here a week before my wedding. If this dress and hat are still on offer, I’m buying them for my wedding night.”

Harry said, “Daphne, ‘some people’ don’t believe that witches exist; but if witches do exist, they’re all evil. So witches all are believed to be bad girls—and bad girls show skin. Thus the costume.”

Neville said, “I easily can imagine Romilda Vane wearing this during a Hogsmeade weekend.”

****

Harry had come to the costume shop to buy a Yellow-Caped Hero costume. Harry then had to inform the other three teens who Yellow-Caped Hero was: a comic-book superhero. Harry then had to explain to the others about comic books and comic-book superheroes—

“Dean Thomas introduced me to comic books. The first thing he told me was that they’re an American passion, they aren’t really a British passion. So if you read comic books here in Britain, some of the spellings are wrong....”

“...Most superheroes and supervillains get their powers from strange science. Yellow-Caped Hero is one of those; he was a scientist who was testing alien artifacts and he was caught in an explosion. A few superheroes and -villains get their powers from magic—the best known being Arcane Doctor Goode and his nemesis, Blakkhart the Sorcerous. Arcane Doctor Goode and Blakkhart both come from a magical society, the Empowered Ten Thousand; but Arcane Doctor Goode prefers the company of nonmagicals, he lives in nonmagical Steel City, all his friends are nonmagicals, and when he has to talk to magicals, he leaves them as soon as he can.”

Neville asked, “So one of the ways that Blakkhart the Sorcerous is shown to be evil is that he chooses to keep company with the Empowered Ten Thousand?”

“Exactly. The comic books hint that the Empowered Ten Thousand are degenerates.”

Daphne scowled.

Hermione asked, “So the Empowered Ten Thousand don’t have a rule like,” she lowered her voice, “the Statute?” Speaking normally again, Hermione asked, “Arcane Doctor Goode doesn’t get in trouble for doing magic in Steel City in front of nonmagicals?”

“Not even slightly,” Harry said. Then he laughed. “Which is good, considering how many times Arcane Doctor Goode has to rescue his girlfriend, Betsy Bukzim, from evildoers.”

Daphne asked, “So why are you buying a Yellow-Caped Hero costume instead of an Arcane Doctor Goode costume?”

“Because the Yellow-Caped Hero costume, as the name implies, comes with a cape.”

****

**Later, back in Potter Manor**

Harry walked into the library whilst carrying the two shopping bags. He called over his shoulder, “Follow me and I’ll explain a bit of what I’m planning.”

The Potter Manor library had four walls. Three of those walls were corner-to-corner, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The fourth wall contained the door in/out, and portraits of Potter ancestors. Harry put down his two shopping bags, summoned a chair from the big table, then Harry removed his parents’ portrait from the wall and set the portrait on the chair so that his parents’ portrait faced the portrait-wall.

Then Harry said to his friends and to his portrait-parents, “I need to get something from my bedroom upstairs. Be right back.”

As Harry hurried out of the library, he heard his portrait-father ask, “Any of you have an idea what Harry is cooking up?”

Neville said, “Just that buying clothes somehow helps him fight Voldemort.”

Hermione said, “Otherwise, no clue. It’s a delicious puzzle.”

When Harry walked back into the library, he was carrying another Reginald Smythe’s Gentlemen’s Clothiers shopping bag. As soon as Harry walked in, Daphne said to him, “I have a guess what you’re up to. If I’m right, Salazar Slytherin would be proud of you for your cunning.”

Harry grinned at her. “Well, the Hat _did_ try to put me into Slytherin.”

From the shopping bag that Harry had just carried in, he removed a shoebox. From the shoebox, Harry pulled out a pair of night-black, patent-leather men’s shoes. Using two sticking charms, Harry stuck the shoes to the wall, just above the floor.

From the brought-in shopping bag, Harry next pulled out a pair of grey dress socks. The socks were stuck to the wall just above the shoes.

From today’s Reginald Smythe shopping bag, Harry pulled out the grey wool slacks and stuck them to the wall; the white dress shirt was stuck to the wall above the slacks.

To the left of the white shirt, Harry stuck his new blue bow tie to the wall; to the right of the white shirt, Harry stuck his new grey swallowtail coat to the wall.

Then Harry went back to his carried-in shopping bag and pulled out the last thing inside the bag: a grey hat. But not just _any_ grey hat.

Three flesh-and-blood teenagers and two portrait-parents all stared as Harry carried the hat to the wall and stuck the hat above the white shirt.

Portrait-James said, “That’s a strange-looking hat.”

Portrait-Lily said, “It’s a _top_ hat.”

Hermione said, “You need a _top hat_ to fight Voldemort? Honestly, Harry.”

Harry grinned at Hermione. “No, I need a _silk_ top hat to help _vanquish_ Voldemort. Honestly.”

Harry looked at his audience and said, “I’ve run out of wall, so I’ll have to do this in stages: first the posh clothes, then the Yellow-Caped Hero costume. Everyone watch now.”

Harry pulled out his wand, then cast the Colour-Change Charm on his patent-leather shoes. The black shoes turned snowy white.

Then Harry, as he wand-waved, explained to his audience why he had bought these clothes, what he planned to do with them, and how they fit in with Harry’s plan to “vanquish” Voldemort.

When Harry was done with both wand-waving and talking, he looked over at Daphne and asked, “How much of all this did you figure out beforehand?”

“About half of it,” she said. “I didn’t foresee the ‘white’ part.”

Hermione said, “Now I understand why you wanted Daphne and me to each have a white dress made.”

****

**Hogwarts SOW &W, that same evening**

It had been just short of a fortnight since Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy had visited Severus Snape at his home in Spinner’s End. The two Black sisters had persuaded Snape to take an Unbreakable Vow to help Draco Malfoy kill Dumbledore—which meant that Snape himself would be obliged to kill the headmaster if Draco could not, or would not, do the dastardly deed himself.

Snape had taken the Vow, even though he had figured that Draco would fail at his Dark Lord-assigned task because the blond boy was a coward. Snape had never imagined that the boy would fail as Dumbledore’s killer because Potter had killed Draco.

So now Snape was obligated, by his Unbreakable Vow, to kill Dumbledore.

Snape walked from his office in the castle dungeons to the headmaster’s office. Once there, Snape said to Dumbledore, “You are dying, headmaster. The withering curse is killing you, despite my potions.”

Dumbledore sighed. “Madame Pomfrey figures I have between one and two years to live. I would like to kill Voldemort before I die.”

Snape stared. “Don’t you mean, you would like to see Potter, the prophecy’s Chosen One, kill Voldemort before you die?”

“Yes, of course, this is what I meant.”

“Headmaster, when the pain becomes too much, or if you lapse into unconsciousness, I will kill you painlessly.”

“You are too kind, Severus.”

Snape did not thank Dumbledore for the compliment. Nor did Snape tell the headmaster the reason for his “kindness”—

If Dumbledore died of the withering curse, instead of dying from Snape murdering him, Snape himself would die in that same minute.

****

**Elsewhere, that same evening**

Dobby elf- _pop_ ped Harry to Gringotts. Harry went into the Potter family vault and walked out with a man’s and a woman’s Potter betrothal ring. Harry then went into the Black family vault and, similarly, grabbed two Black betrothal rings.

At 7:00 p.m., Dobby elf- _pop_ ped Harry into the Granger home. Harry and Professor McGonagall officially signed, and all three Grangers also signed, the Harry-Hermione betrothal contract. Harry put the Potter woman’s betrothal ring on Hermione’s finger, then put the Potter man’s betrothal ring on his own finger.

This was when Harry felt a magical _shift_ ; at the same time, Hermione gasped. “I felt something!” she said.

Professor McGonagall explained, “You just felt Potter family magic join with your magical core.”

Hermione grinned. “Does this mean I can read the Potter family grimoire now, without dying a most painful death?”

The elder Grangers looked puzzled, till Harry explained, “A grimoire is a book of family magic spells. Hermione wants, wants, _wants_ to read the Potter grimoire.”

“ _And_ the Black grimoire,” Hermione said. “Lucky for me, the Weasley twins suggested a way how I can read the Black book.”

Professor McGonagall shuddered.

Harry and Hermione shared a long kiss, and Harry drank a glass of wine with the Grangers plus McGonagall. Just before Dobby elf- _pop_ ped Harry away, Harry reminded Hermione, “Remember that Daphne, you and I will meet up in front of the _Daily Prophet_ office at 10 a.m. tomorrow. Be sure to wear your first of two new dresses.”

Dobby then elf- _pop_ ped Harry to Greengrass Manor. In a ceremony similar to what had been held at the Granger house, Harry and Lord Greengrass officially signed the Harry-Daphne betrothal contract, whilst Opal and Daphne Greengrass also signed. Harry put a Black betrothal ring on Daphne’s finger and put a Black betrothal ring on his own finger; again, Harry felt a magical _shift_. When Daphne came up to Harry to kiss him, Harry was surprised how _passionate_ the kiss was.

Again, just before Harry departed from his (other) betrothed and her family, he reminded Daphne to put on her new clothes and to be standing in front of the _Daily Prophet_ office at 10 a.m. tomorrow.

Dobby then took Harry back to Privet Drive.

In his bedroom at Privet Drive, Harry summoned Kreacher. Harry told Kreacher to visit every member of the Order of the Phoenix except for Dumbledore, Fletcher and Snape; and to tell each visited member that there would be a meeting tomorrow at 7 p.m. at “the usual place.”

Then Harry rolled his eyes and added, “And Kreacher, when I say ‘Visit every member except for Dumbledore, Fletcher and Snape’—yes, this includes Elphias Doge and Molly Weasley. Sorry.”

After Kreacher elf- _pop_ ped away, Harry went downstairs to fix himself some toast. He was surprised to discover that Vernon Dursley was almost friendly around him—perhaps because both men knew that they would be stuck with each other’s company only for another six weeks?

At ten that evening, Harry climbed into his bed at Number 4, Privet Drive, and he made plans for tomorrow.

Hermione and Daphne expected tomorrow to put on new clothes, to walk into the _Daily Prophet_ office and to announce, “We’re each betrothed to Harry Potter!” Which Harry would join in on the announcing of. But Harry had something else on his to-do list whilst he was in that newsroom—

Harry planned to issue a public challenge to Tom Marvolo Riddle, a.k.a. Lord Voldemort.


	18. Harry Is Judged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the _Daily Prophet_ ’s interview questions were suggested by one of my alpha-readers and real-life friends, Debi Binder.

**The next morning (Tuesday, 23rd July), 9:30 a.m.  
** **Office of the Minister for Magic**

Harry met briefly with Minister Scrimgeour. Harry gave the Minister a warning about what tomorrow’s _Daily Prophet_ would print.

Scrimgeour pledged, “All the Aurors you need, when you need them, they’ll be there.”

Then Scrimgeour casually asked, “What does Dumbledore think of your plan?”

Harry replied, “No idea. I don’t speak with the headmaster now, unless I’m forced to.”

Hearing this, Scrimgeour’s eyebrows shot up.

****

**A half-hour later: 10 a.m.  
** **Just outside the _Daily Prophet_ building, Diagon Alley**

Harry, Daphne and Hermione were about to announce their betrothals, in the most public way possible. Since 5th July, Wizarding Britain had wondered who the future wife of Lord Black would be—today, the question would be answered.

As the three magical teenagers stood outside the building, Harry said to the girls, “You both look stylish in the ‘Oi, we’re betrothed!’ dresses that I paid you to make—”

Daphne was wearing new, midnight-black dress-robes that matched her black hair. However, her shoulder-covers, shoes, bracelet, necklace and hair-net all were white. By an amazing coincidence, the colours of Daphne’s House of Black betrothal ring also were midnight-black and snow-white.

Hermione was wearing a clay-grey, sleeveless summer dress. Her high-heeled shoes, wide belt and earrings all were black, as was the black silk scarf around Hermione’s neck. Her outfit coordinated perfectly with the grey-and-black House of Potter betrothal ring that she wore.

Harry was wearing two betrothal rings, whose collective colours were black, white and clay-grey. Harry was deliberately underdressed in comparison to the girls: he wore black wool slacks and black socks, leather shoes and belt; a white dress shirt; and a grey satin tie—he looked quite Muggle.

“—and the second two outfits I commissioned,” Harry continued, “the white outfits, are they finished, even though you won’t be wearing them today?”

“Yes,” Daphne answered, “my brand-new white dress-robes are ready to be pulled on anytime.”

Hermione said to Harry, “I have my dress, which fits me well, and I have bought white jewellery. My only question is about the shoes. Do I wear low heels that I can stand in for a longer period of time, or do I wear shoes with higher heels that are dressy but painful?”

Harry answered instantly, “Go with the higher heels. One way or another, you won’t be on your feet for long.”

Then Harry looked at Daphne and grinned at Hermione. “I predict that a photo of the three of us, with Daphne in her white dress-robes, Hermione in her white dress and me in my top hat, will be in all future editions of _Hogwarts: A History_ —”

Hermione actually _squeaked_. Now she was beaming.

“—so plan your dress-up accordingly. You’ll want to look _fabulous_ when you help me vanquish Voldy.”

Then Harry turned towards the _Daily Prophet_ building, as he squared his shoulders. “Come, ladies, let’s talk to the press.”

****

**Minutes later, in the newsroom**

“That’s Harry Potter!” a voice said.

“Who are the girls with him?” a different voice asked.

“The bushy-haired one is Hermione Granger,” a third voice said. “She and Potter are _always_ together.”

As the front-desk receptionist was leading the three teenagers through the newsroom to editor Barnabas Cuffe’s office, Harry spotted Rita Skeeter at a desk, working. Actually, Rita was sitting at her desk and murmuring, whilst Rita’s acid-green Quick-Quotes Quill scribbled.

Harry veered off to approach Skeeter’s desk; Hermione followed. Daphne stopped walking and turned to watch the show. The receptionist likewise stopped walking, but she looked panicked.

The newsroom had gone dead silent.

Harry and Hermione walked up behind Rita in her chair and stopped. The couple stood there for several seconds, behind Rita, as silent as Dementors.

Rita stopped murmuring to her Quick-Quotes Quill. In a louder voice, she said, “You’re standing too close. Back up.”

Harry said innocently (and loudly), “But Rita, I thought you _liked_ closeness. During the Triwizard, you put yourself _quite_ close to me, and you even _grabbed_ me. Aren’t I your _friend?_ ”

Hermione growled, “You better not grab him _now_ , hack, because now Harry and I are _betrothed_.”

Rita gasped, and whipped her head around. “You _are?_ And isn’t that _Heiress Greengrass_ with you? Oh my, _such a story!_ My dears—”

Harry interrupted: “ _Such a story_ , yes, which we’ll tell to _Barnabas Cuffe_ , in an exclusive. Or perhaps we’ll talk to the _Quibbler_ , in an exclusive. Either way, Rita, you are _passed over_ , because the three of us want nothing to do with your lies and libels. ’Bye now.”

Hermione pointed to what the green quill had written. “Do you know _nothing_ about the Muggle world, Rita? There are two _s_ ’s in _brassiere_.”

As Harry and Hermione walked away from Rita Skeeter, other people in the newsroom applauded them.

****

Two minutes later, three teenagers, and one man in his forties, all were sitting in Barnabas Cuffe’s office. Cuffe began the interview with—

“Lord Black-Potter, you are now the ruling Head of House for two Most Ancient and Noble houses. What are your political plans?”

Harry answered, “My immediate plans are to deal with Voldemort. There’s a prophecy that says it’s up to me to put him down like a rabid dog. Along with vanquishing Voldemort, I have two more years at Hogwarts. After school and after Voldemort, I’ll get married—twice! Sometime in late 1998, I’ll take up my Wizengamot seats. But that’s later on—next month, I’ll go to the Wizengamot to grant new proxies for my seats. Right now, Elphias Doge holds the proxy for my Potter seats and Albus Dumbledore holds proxy on my Black seats; but next month, this changes.”

Cuffe asked one more political question, about the Light, Dark and Grey factions in the Wizengamot, which Harry dodged.

Then Cuffe asked, “How did the three of you meet? You’re all in the same year.”

Daphne laughed. “Harry and I didn’t truly ‘meet’ till this summer—that is, we never had a conversation that wasn’t about classes or homework till late June of this year. But Hermione Granger, _her_ I remember well—I was behind her in queue for the Sorting Hat, when she started telling the boy next to her about the Great Hall’s enchanted ceiling. Then she added, ‘I read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_.’—”

Hermione shrieked, and covered her face with her hands. “Oh Merlin, I was hoping everyone would forget that! I was quite the know-it-all then.”

Daphne grinned at Hermione, then said, “I thought to myself, ‘What a pure swot! She’s Ravenclaw for sure.’ ”

Harry squeezed both girls’ hands. “Daphne, you were wrong about the ‘Ravenclaw’ part, but right about the ‘swot’ part. If Madame Pince would allow it, Hermione would dorm in the Hogwarts library.”

Hermione nodded, grinning.

Then Harry looked at Cuffe. “The story of Hermione and me isn’t exciting. Ron Weasley and I were in a compartment on the firstie train, then Hermione opened the door. Hermione said to Ron and me, ‘A boy has lost his toad. Have you seen it?’ Then Hermione introduced herself to Ron and me. Soon afterwards, she used the _Reparo_ spell to fix the frames of my glasses.”

Daphne said, “Hermione knew the _Reparo_ spell before she’d ever seen Hogwarts?”

Hermione shrugged, blushing. “Every summer, I read ahead. I’ve done this since primary school.”

****

**Later**

Daphne was saying to Cuffe, “...It’s beautiful to see what Harry and Hermione have. A hundred years from now, there will be poems, and songs, and stories, and ... what are those Muggle picture-plays called?”

“Movies,” Harry and Hermione said together.

“A hundred years from now, there will be movies made about the love those two share. My own relationship is nowhere so grand, because Harry and I are just beginning to know each other, but—I love him. I know what you’re thinking—this sounds so _Muggle-born_ , right? I know what readers are saying now: ‘Heiress Greengrass, remember that you’re a Pureblood.’ But when I looked past what the _Daily Prophet_ wrote about Harry”—Daphne glared at Cuffe—“what wizarding radio said, what Pureblood bigots in Slytherin said; and when I realised that Harry Potter _is not_ The Boy Who Lived, I realised something else. Namely, Harry James Potter is a young man whom I like a lot. Whom I respect and admire too.”

“I agree completely,” Hermione said.

Harry blushed.

****

**Two minutes later**

Cuffe asked, “Hermione, why didn’t you go to the Yule Ball with Harry?”

Daphne said, “ _Yes_ , Hermione, why _didn’t_ you?”

“Because Harry didn’t ask me! When I told him that I was going with Viktor, Harry got a sad look, then he said, ‘I should have spoken up sooner, right?’ I said, ‘Yes, you should have.’ ”

Cuffe then asked, “Harry, why didn’t you ask Hermione to the Yule Ball? Why did you ask Parvati Patil instead?”

Harry said, “Because I’m ignorant about girls! By the time I worked out that I wanted to go to the Ball with Hermione before anyone else, I was too late. Then I panicked. I was afraid that I’d better ask somebody quick, else I wouldn’t go with anyone.”

Hermione said, “Erm, Harry? Just so we’re clear, you’re not saying that Parvati Patil was a bad date, she just, in your mind, came in a distant second to”—Hermione hissed in embarrassment—“me.”

Harry, blushing, said, “Right. Parvati Patil is a gorgeous young witch, and someday she’ll make some wizard a fine wife.”

Daphne asked, “Did you ever consider Slytherin? I know for a fact that two girls in Slytherin would have said yes if you’d asked them. I was one of the two.”

Harry stared. “Really? Wow. No, I figured you all were Pansy Parkinson wannabees.”

“Oh, please.” Daphne stuck her tongue out at Harry.

****

**Later**

Cuffe asked the trio, “How long will the betrothals be? Till after you sit your N.E.W.T.s, or will you marry later?”

Harry grinned. “So you’re asking me, once I finish seventh year and have my N.E.W.T. scores in hand, ditto my two lovely betrotheds, do I plan to _wait any longer_ to get married? What do _you_ think?”

Hermione looked at Daphne, then both girls looked at Cuffe and grinned. Hermione said, “We girls don’t want to wait to get married either. I can’t speak for Daphne, but I will be tapping my foot and biting my lip during the marriage ritual.”

Cuffe asked, “Have you set a wedding date or dates yet? Have you decided where the weddings will take place?”

“ _No!_ ” Harry yelled. “Are you _thick?_ ”

“That’s two years in the future,” Daphne said.

“I’ve scribbled down a few ideas,” Hermione said. The other two teenagers rolled their eyes.

Cuffe asked, “Are you going to have separate weddings, or will you marry both of your ladies at the same time?” Cuffe showed a small smile at Harry. “Will you subject yourself to every man’s nightmare—having to remember two anniversaries?”

With no hesitation, Harry said, “Both weddings will be at the same time. Otherwise, one wedding would come first and one wedding second, right? And no matter what I said to the second wife, what she would hear would be, ‘I’m more eager to marry _her_ than I am to marry _you_.’ Well, I have no plans to spend my second honeymoon sleeping on the couch.”

Hermione said, “And this is exactly what would happen: Harry getting the second wife permanently brassed off at him. Harry is brilliant in many ways, but he is hardly a silver-tongued bloke who could talk himself out of insulting his second bride like that.”

Daphne said, “But if for some reason we _do_ have to have two weddings, Hermione and I shall decide the order by a round of Rock-Paper-Scissors.” Noting Cuffe’s puzzled look, Daphne explained, “It’s a Muggle game. Because of Harry and Hermione, I’m becoming more Muggle every day.”

Cuffe again: “Do you have a theme to your wedding—erm, weddings?”

All three teens rolled their eyes. Harry replied, “ _Again_ , Mr Cuffe, it’ll be two years before we have to decide such things.”

With an angelically innocent look, Daphne said, “Besides, Gryffindors never plan _anything_ ; they prefer to improvise on the fly. Slytherins plan; but the Slytherin here is outnumbered two to one.”

Hermione said with exaggerated haughtiness, “Daphne dear, _I_ plan things all the time. Five years ago, I caused a hatstall between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.”

Cuffe asked, “Will Albus Dumbledore be officiating the wedding or weddings?”

“ _Impossible_ ,” Daphne said, frowning.

“Impossible, I agree,” Hermione said. “If Dumbledore married us, somehow the parchmentwork afterwards would say that Harry was married to Ginevra Weasley.”

(Hearing Hermione’s words, Daphne raised an eyebrow. Hermione mouthed, _Later_.)

Meanwhile, Harry was saying, “I would break Cornelius Fudge out of Azkaban, just so I could ask him to perform the marriage rituals for us, before I’d ask Dumbledore to marry us.”

Cuffe’s eyebrows shot up so high in surprise, they were almost up to his hairline.

Then Cuffe sighed. “Since it’s two years till your wedding—or wedding _zzz_ —there is no point in asking you about plans for your honeymoon. Or honeymoon _zzz_. Correct?”

“Correct,” all three teens answered together.

“So of course, given your two magnificent mansions, you will have two separate households, but are there times when the three of you might stay together in one or other of your homes?”

“At Christmastime, maybe,” Hermione replied, acting unaware of Cuffe’s innuendo. “At Christmastime—”

“Yuletide,” Daphne corrected.

“—Lady X might stay in the guest bedroom of Y house, along with the adorable X children,” Hermione said.

Cuffe had to pause and to think-through Hermione’s statement, since algebra was never taught to magicals except as part of the arithmancy elective.

“I think, you two,” Daphne said, “what Mr Cuffe wants to ask in a roundabout way is, Will we be having _threesomes?_ ”

Harry said, “I would never, not in a million years, ask for such a thing. But by the same token, if both my wives walked up to me one day and said ‘Let’s do this,’ I wouldn’t _think_ of refusing.”

Hermione grinned at Daphne. “Oh, the sacrifices this man is willing to make, in order to keep his wives happy!”

Hermione then grinned at Cuffe. “Right now, I can’t see such a thing happening. But if it ever _does_ happen, _Prophet_ readers _won’t_ be told even a hint by any of us three.”

Harry leant forwards and murmured, “Make sure your unregistered beetle-animagus understands this.”

Cuffe _choked_ , then said, “One last question: Ladies, how do you _really_ feel about sharing Mr Potter with another wife?”

Hermione gestured to Daphne: _You first_.

Daphne said, “A bit disappointed—this is not _at all_ what I was raised to expect. But then, I never expected to be married to even _half of_ ‘the Boy Who Lived.’ As for Hermione, I don’t understand her at all, what with her being so bright and a Muggle-born besides, but she has good character. As opposed to Pureblood girls whose names I could mention, whom, if I found out that one of them would one day be my co-wife, I would rip up my betrothal contract during that same minute—even if doing this made me a squib.”

Hermione said, “I feel pretty much the same way, except, erm—I’d pretty much picked up the idea that all Slytherins are evil, but nobody in the Greengrass family is evil, so maybe I’m wrong.”

Daphne replied with a haughty voice (but also with a smile): “My family is not _evil_ , we are _strategic_. Learn the difference, Granger.”

Harry said, “In Gryffindor, I’ve heard ‘They’re all evil’ said about Slytherin. But I didn’t believe most of what I heard, for one simple reason: at first the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, and I know _I’m_ not evil.”

Hermione said, “I agree. You are suicidally daring, but you’re not evil.”

****

**Five minutes later**

Harry had just been asked who was “Fake Bellatrix,” the woman who had shot to death both Fenrir Greyback and (the real) Bellatrix Lestrange.

Harry frowned at Barnabas Cuffe. “I won’t tell you who Fake Bellatrix was. Furthermore, I won’t say why I won’t say.”

Hermione said, “I was not Fake Bellatrix, contrary to rumour, but I know who she really was.”

Daphne said, “I was not Fake Bellatrix either, and my feelings are hurt that I’m considered not worth starting a rumour about.”

****

**One minute later**

Cuffe smiled at the three teenagers and said, “Those are all the questions I have for now. Thank you, Lord Black-Potter, Heiress Greengrass and Miss Granger, for talking with me.”

Harry said, “I have two things I want to say at the end. First, I found out only a month ago that Albus Dumbledore put an owl-redirect on my mail, for as long as I’ve been ‘the Boy Who Lived.’ So if you’ve ever owled me a letter and you’ve wondered why I’ve never answered you, the answer is that I never read your letter. I’m sorry you were disappointed.

“Secondly, let me tell you some things you don’t know about the impostor who calls himself ‘Lord Voldemort.’ The first thing you should know is that his real name is Tom Marvolo”—Harry spelled the name—“Riddle, born in 1926.”

Harry explained: Tom Marvolo Riddle was the bastard son of a magically-weak witch, Merope Gaunt, who was the daughter of the Heir of Slytherin, Marvolo Gaunt. Merope was so ugly that nobody would marry her, except for the handsome Muggle man she love-potioned. When she let the love-potion lapse, the Muggle man, Tom Riddle, abandoned her. She gave birth to her son in Wool’s Orphanage, then died in childbirth.

Harry concluded, “...Tom Marvolo Riddle is a literal bastard, a halfblood who puts on airs, whose parents were a Muggle and a female rapist. Now let me share with you something that the shade of Tom Riddle boasted about, three years ago.”

Harry then wrote on a piece of parchment:

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

“Close up the spaces, and what do you get?”

IAMLORDVOLDEMORT

“Rearrange the letters, and they become—”

TOMMARVOLORIDDLE

“Put spaces in, at the right places, and _voilà_ —”

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

Cuffe stared at the parchment.

Harry said, “I now issue a _challenge_ to the _coward_ , ‘Lord Voldemort,’ also known as Tom Marvolo Riddle. He’s a coward because he sends his Death Eaters out to face Aurors’ angry wands, whilst he stays safe. But no more, Tommy, no more.

“I’ve faced you several times, Tommy, and I’ve _won_ every time. The first time I beat you was when I was _fifteen months_ old. The last time I will win against you will be the last day that I am _fifteen years_ old: next week on 30th July.

“Tommy, I challenge you to a _duel to the death_ , Tuesday one week from today, at high noon. The place will be the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. I pledge to not only _kill_ you, but to _vanquish_ you. Show your noseless face and be vanquished by my hand, one week from now, or spend the rest of your miserable life _shamed_ as the coward that you are.”

Barnabas Cuffe now stared at Harry, looking utterly gobsmacked.

****

After the three teens left the _Daily Prophet_ , Daphne kissed Harry on the lips, outdoors where anyone could see. Then Daphne said to Harry, “I’m quite impressed about the interview you gave in there. You acted like you’ve been giving press interviews for years.”

Harry shrugged. “Since the day I boarded the Hogwarts Express as a firstie, I’ve wanted to be treated as ‘just Harry.’ ” Hermione nodded. Harry continued, “In five years, ‘just Harry’ has never happened to me in the wizarding world. What elderly Harry’s book-letter made me realise was that ‘just Harry’ won’t happen in the future, either. I’m _stuck_ with being famous, so I need to make the most of it.”

****

**7:06 that evening  
** **Number 12 Grimmauld Place**

Harry was talking to Minerva McGonagall, as he escorted her from the Floo Room to the dining room that was being used as the meeting-place for the Order of the Phoenix.

In the dining room, all of the Order members were already present (except for Dumbledore, Fletcher and Snape, the three who again had not been invited). Five Weasleys—Arthur, Molly, Bill, George and Fred—already were seated, as was Bill’s girlfriend, Fleur Delacour. As had also happened a week ago, Hermione and Neville were seated on either side of Harry’s empty chair. Tonks sat on Hermione’s other side.

Just as had happened a week ago, whilst many chairs surrounded the dining table, there were more attendees than chairs, so some Order members were forced to stand.

As Harry and McGonagall walked into the dining room, Molly did not wait for Harry to take his seat (and for McGonagall to be offered a seat by Kingsley Shacklebolt). Molly picked up a parchment from the table and began to read aloud, even whilst Harry still was walking towards his chair—

_Greetings from Albus Dumbledore, leader of the Order of the Phoenix, to members of the Order._

_Confirmation code: Number 3, “frogs chocolate.”_

_Harry Potter has told you about the prophecy that mentions him. I do not approve of his immature action, but what’s done is done. He uses the prophecy as basis to claim that he should lead this organisation that dedicates itself to fighting Voldemort and his followers._

_Harry is a good boy, mostly, despite my fears that he is turning Dark. But he lacks the years and the wisdom to lead you. In any case, it is to me, not to him, that you have given an oath of obedience._

_I call upon your oath by giving you two orders: The first order is for all of you, except for Molly Weasley, to make owl-birdcalls when Molly says “Begin,” and to stop when Molly says “Silence.”_

Molly lay down the parchment, gave Harry a contemptuous look, then said, “Begin.”

Except for Harry, Hermione and Neville, and Molly and the twins, everyone in the room began making owl-sounds. McGonagall looked sick with embarrassment.

When it was clear that it was impossible for any Order member _not_ to make owl-sounds, Molly said “Silence.”

In the sudden silence, Molly again looked scornfully at Harry, picked up the parchment, and resumed reading—

_Here is your second order from me. By your oath, I now command you: You are to do nothing that Harry tells you to do, until I approve Harry’s ideas in person. Signed, Albus Dumbledore._

Harry scowled. _I’m finally just days away from defeating Voldemort, with the help of the Order, and the conceited longbeard decides to come in_ now _and trample on everything!_

Meanwhile, Hermione was saying almost the same thing: “This is disgusting. Harry is on the verge of defeating Voldemort, but Mr Twinkle-Eyes wants to budge in and steal the glory.”

Molly yelled, “Young lady, show _respect_ to Albus Dumbledore! He is a great man!”

Harry said, “ _Is_ he? Besides forcing me to live with abusive relatives as a child, and stealing from my trust vault, Dumbledore is _thick_ as a general. Need I remind you that Voldemort was days away from defeating the forces of Light until _a fifteen-month-old toddler_ saved you all? But then, what else can anyone expect except _to lose_ , when your great leader’s orders are ‘Stun them and rope them, but don’t hurt them or kill them.’ Hm?”

Elphias Doge taunted Harry: “It doesn’t matter what _you_ think, you disrespectful whelp! We are ordered not to obey you, until you put yourself under Albus’s leadership.”

Neville asked in a worried tone, “What will you do now, Harry?”

Harry replied, “What I’ll do is to call upon a higher power—”

Harry yanked out his wand, and pointed it at the ceiling. “I call upon Magic itself to judge—”

Many people in the room gasped. Hermione painfully squeezed Harry’s forearm.

“—whether Albus Dumbledore is, or I am, more suitable to own oaths of obedience by members of the Order of the Phoenix. Should I be judged less suitable, I will accept whatever punishment that Magic chooses to inflict on me for my cheekiness. So mote it be.”

Light flashed in the dining room, brighter than the brightest _Lumos_ that Harry ever had made.

****

Dumbledore suddenly (and silently) appeared at the far end of the table, whilst sitting on his golden throne. For an instant, the old man looked startled because of his instant transportation, then he looked at Harry with twinkling eyes and a triumphant smile. “Harry, my—”

“ _Silence!_ ” said two disembodied voices, a man and a woman speaking together. “ _Your worthiness as the leader of the Order of the Phoenix shall be judged now._ ”

With these words, Harry froze; only his eyes could move. Dumbledore’s face was frozen mid-word.

Harry’s chair and Dumbledore’s throne slowly rose above the table. Then Harry’s view of the dining room mostly vanished, as purple sparkles rushed from right to left in front of his eyes.

Then Harry _remembered_ things.

Harry remembered all the summers with the Dursleys after first year, when he was _angry_ with one or more Dursleys and he wanted to fetch his wand and _curse_ these people. Yet he never did.

Harry remembered a year ago when the two Dementors attacked him and Dudley in the park and, rather than only save himself from the Dementors, Harry also rescued helpless Dudley.

Harry remembered breakfast, a week and a half ago, when Harry chose to praise Dudley, after Dudley had offered help to Harry when Dumbledore had come to visit Privet Drive.

Harry remembered second year and all the times he was bothered and annoyed in the common room by firstie Colin Creevy, with Harry wanting to shout _GET THE BLOODY HELL AWAY FROM ME!_ But Harry never actually spoke rudely to his overenthusiastic admirer.

Harry remembered all the times he _fiercely_ wanted to curse Draco badly enough to put the blond boy in the hospital wing for _weeks_. But just as with Colin, Harry never gave in to such urges.

Harry remembered floating at the bottom of Black Lake, by magically asleep Gabrielle Delacour, waiting for Fleur Delacour to arrive and to rescue her sister. When it became clear that, for whatever reason, Fleur was not coming, Harry rescued both hostage-Ron and hostage-Gabrielle.

Harry remembered the fight with the mountain troll in the third-floor girls’ loo, when Harry had attended Hogwarts for only _two months_. Harry risked his life to rescue a girl whom he mildly disliked at the time, simply because it would have been wrong to let her die.

Not quite two years after rescuing Hermione, Harry rescued Ginny Weasley from the shade of Tom Riddle, and saved the school from the basilisk that shade-Riddle commanded. Despite the danger to himself, Harry fought the basilisk and fought shade-Riddle, because Harry would not be able to forgive himself if he let Ginny die and let Voldemort return.

Then Harry remembered every minute of every meeting of Dumbledore’s Army in the Room of Requirement, of Harry teaching DADA. Harry remembered how he taught the stupid children, the timid children, the magically-weak children and the youngest children, how to protect themselves from magical attacks.

****

Harry’s involuntary recollections ended, and the moving purple sparkles in front of his eyes all vanished. But Harry still could not speak; and only his eyes could move.

His eyes saw that, across the dining room, a vortex of sparkling purple was hiding Dumbledore’s head. Harry realised this made sense: Dumbledore was much older than Harry was, so Magic would have more of Dumbledore’s memories to review.

Harry realised then that Magic had not reviewed all of his memories. His memories of time spent in class, in either Whinging Primary or at Hogwarts, had not been reviewed; his years spent with the Dursleys before he had gone to Hogwarts had not been reviewed.

Harry figured out then, what all his reviewed memories had in common: A moment when Harry had felt the urge to help, or the urge to harm, what had he decided to do afterwards? And was his decision based on what was right, or what was selfish or safe? The memories with Dumbledore’s Army showed Harry’s leadership (or perhaps the lack of it); when Hogwarts students in the Room of Requirement willingly obeyed Harry’s orders, were their lives better afterwards?

****

**Twenty minutes later**

The purple-sparkles vortex that hid Dumbledore’s face, suddenly vanished. The disembodied man’s and woman’s voices intoned, “ _Harry James Potter and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, hear now your judgements!_ ”

The voices said, “ _Potter, we find no selfishness in you, no evil. Whenever you have felt the urge to do good, you have done good—and done good effectively. Whenever you have felt the urge to do evil, you always have resisted the urge. Many times you have accomplished what had been thought impossible—and you have accomplished the supposed-impossible whilst keeping your conscience clear._ ”

Harry still could not move or speak, so he was unable to say _Thank you, Magic_.

The voices said, “ _Dumbledore, you always have been secretive, and now it has corrupted you. You refused to share secrets, then you told yourself, ‘I know things my advisors do not know, so I am free to ignore their counsel.’ From there, it was only a small leap to you thinking, ‘If I think I’m right, then truly I am right, no matter what I do.’ To you, ‘It’s for the Greater Good’ justifies anything and everything you do. You truly are unbothered by all the Order of the Phoenix members who have died because they trusted your orders. You truly were unbothered by using Order of the Phoenix members to keep Harry James Potter and Sirius Orion Black prisoner. Now you plot the death of Harry James Potter in such a way that he shall die and you shall regain your glory. Two years in a row, you endangered the schoolchildren who had been put in your care, in pursuit of some ‘Greater Good’_ vile _scheme of yours. In short, your soul is blighted with_ evil _now, you foolishly believe in your own inerrancy, and you are inept as a leader_.”

Apparently, Dumbledore could not move or speak any more than Harry could, but now the headmaster’s eyes were narrowed in anger.

The disembodied voices said, “ _Magic finds Harry James Potter to be more worthy of obedience oaths by the Order of the Phoenix, and so the subject of these oaths is transferred_.”

Light flashed in the room, and many people gasped.

The voices continued, “ _As punishment for the misdeeds that Magic has found, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore shall lose 10 percent of his magical power, as well as his special wand, both being given to Harry James Potter. Finally, the bond between Dumbledore and his phoenix is severed_.”

Now Dumbledore’s eyes looked panicked.

Meanwhile, Harry suddenly felt magically _stronger_. It felt almost as if Harry drank a Pepper-Up potion whilst he already were well rested.

Meanwhile, the voices said, “ _Albus Dumbledore, unworthy wizard, unworthy leader,_ begone!” Dumbledore and his golden throne both vanished from above the dining table; at the same time, Harry discovered he could move his face and body again.

Harry’s chair slowly dropped till it was back on the floor. On the table, by Harry’s right elbow, lay the Elder Wand. Harry pocketed the wand.

Meanwhile, the room was completely silent.

Harry said, “Order of the Phoenix members, I command you, by your oath of obedience, to sing me a song.”

Harry cut off the singing after ten seconds. By then, Elphias Doge and Molly Weasley looked panicked.

Harry said calmly, “Molly, _silently_ hand me the parchment that you were reading from.”

When scowling Molly handed over Dumbledore’s letter, Harry tore the letter in half, _r-rip!_ Harry handed the two pieces to Hermione, who pulled out her wand and vanished the parchment-halves.

The room still was silent.

Harry looked at Fleur, and at everyone in the room who was older than Fleur was. Harry said, “The only time I will demand that you obey me is to keep an operation secret. Still, I’m 15.98 years old, and once again I’m the youngest person in this room. If you are disturbed by the idea of taking orders from me, I prefer that you resign from the Order _right now_. My house-elf, Kreacher, will walk you to the Floo Room.”

Elphias Doge and Molly Weasley immediately resigned.

When Molly tried to browbeat Arthur Weasley into also resigning, he refused, saying, “Molly, your loyalty to the old thief is misplaced. I’m glad I’m free of him. Now go home and wait for me.” The twins, Bill and Fleur all looked shocked, hearing Arthur talk to Molly this way.

****

After the two Dumbledore loyalists had left the townhouse, Harry asked, “Does anyone have any questions, before I start the meeting that I wanted to start thirty minutes ago?”

Neville asked, “Do those of us who are not members of this group, have to take oaths of obedience to you?”

“ _No_. No oaths of obedience, no loyalty oaths. I’m fighting Voldemort here, not setting up a cult of personality. I have an idea for an operation quite soon that I will want the participants to take Unbreakable Vows for, but in general? Such oaths are not needed.”

Hermione, Neville and the twins all looked relieved to hear this.

Harry now grinned a shark’s grin as he looked around the room. “I’ve changed how we fight the Death Eaters. We don’t show up after a long delay now, and we don’t fight ‘nice’ anymore. If you’ve been reading the _Daily Prophet_ within the last three days, or listening to wizarding radio, you’ve heard the question asked, ‘Who is Fake Bellatrix?’ Fake Bellatrix shot the real Bellatrix dead, and shot Fenrir Greyback dead. Well, I’m here to tell you that Fake Bellatrix is here in this room.”

“Actually, Harry,” said Tonks, “you got the order backwards. I killed Greyback first.”

Everyone other than Tonks stared at her. McGonagall murmured something in Gaelic. Kingsley Shacklebolt said, “I knew it.”

Harry said, “For you Order members, I invoke your oath of obedience: Discuss what you just learnt about Auror Tonks _only_ with other people who now are in this room. Hermione, Neville, George and Fred, I cannot order you, but I _strongly request_ that you don’t share the secret about Tonks.”

Hermione and Neville nodded. The twins pantomimed zipping their lips shut, and did not admit that they already knew Tonks’s secret.

Harry said, “Two more announcements. Firstly, one week from today, 30th July at twelve noon, I’m challenging Voldemort to a duel at the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch—”

Pandaemonium.

When the noise had dropped a bit, Tonks said, “ _You_ challenged _Moldyshorts?_ This is bloody brilliant.”

“Yes I did,” Harry replied. “Order of the Phoenix members, as for the duel, I _won’t_ invoke your obedience-oaths to _order_ you to face Voldemort and his Death Eaters with me. I simply point out now that each of you joined the Order because you wanted to battle Tom Riddle and his minions; and in one week, you’ll get your chance to do exactly this.”

Harry was pleased to note that nobody in the dining room looked scared by what Harry just had said, whereas he spotted many bloodthirsty grins.

Harry said, “My second announcement is that I need four volunteers for a dangerous mission. A _secret_ dangerous mission that you volunteers will have to take Unbreakable Vows for, to make sure that you don’t chat about the mission, even years from now. I need four volunteers who are skilled with a broom, and who aren’t frightened to fly high.”

“ _How_ high?” asked Mad-Eye Moody.

“Much higher than a hundred feet off the ground,” Harry replied.


	19. Duel Preparations, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to use this Author Note to recommend someone else’s story, “Double Back” by Methos2523. Now the bad news: the 20-chapter story is incomplete; its last update was in September 2019. The premise: 38-year-old Harry Potter, Auror team leader, accidentally is sent back in time to mid-July, 1991—specifically, to a week and a half before child-Harry is sent his “Cupboard under the Stairs” Hogwarts letter. It is the older Harry who receives the letter. Then older Harry has an epiphany: Without even trying to, he has changed history, so why not change history _deliberately?_ After this realisation, older Harry _definitely_ changes events from how they happened originally, by impersonating James Potter “back from the dead.” ’Ships: Older Harry/Amelia Bones and (maybe?) Neville/Hermione.

**Tuesday, 23rd July, seven days till the Duel  
** **About 7:40 p.m.  
** **Number 12, Grimmauld Place**

Harry immediately was handed a problem. He had asked for four volunteers for the high-flying mission, but he got five—George and Fred Weasley, Bill Weasley, Fleur Delacour and Alastor Moody. Bill and his girlfriend promptly got into an argument about who should stay home.

Harry could understand Bill’s feelings—if Hermione had volunteered to fly a broom for this mission, Harry would have flat-out refused to let her go—but Harry felt more comfortable with Fleur, after all they had gone through together. “Sorry, Bill,” Harry said.

There still were people in the dining room. Harry said, “You four volunteers plus Hermione, I want you lot to stay here after everyone else leaves—”

Hermione’s face turned white. “Do you plan for me to fly with them, Harry? I’m scared of heights!”

Harry said, “Relax, Hermione. I want you to be part of the mission, yes—but as the radio operator.”

“Oh. Okay,” Hermione said. Her relief was obvious.

The twins asked, “Just how high—”

“—will we be flying—”

“—on this secret mission?”

Harry, Hermione, Neville and Bill answered together, “ _High_.”

The four volunteers looked amazed.

Harry said, “In the meantime, Hermione, Neville and Professor McGonagall, please follow me to the kitchen.”

****

**In the kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place**

As soon as all four people were in the kitchen, Hermione shocked Harry when she threw her arms around him. “ _Honestly_ , Harry, what were you _thinking?_ ” sniffling Hermione asked. “When you asked Magic to judge you, how could you have done such a dangerous thing? You could have lost all your magic! What if Magic decided you were a greedy, immature prat for asking for a magical judgement?”

Harry hugged her and replied, “I called for Magic’s judgement because I _had to_ , Hermione. I was desperate—there was _no other way_ to get back control of the Order. Also, I was sure I was holding better cards than Dumbledore was. And finally, if the worst happened and I lost my magic”—Harry shrugged—“it wouldn't bother me.”

“Losing your magic wouldn’t bother you?” McGonagall asked, shocked.

Harry looked the old woman in the eyes. “Only in that losing my magic would lead to my betrothal to Daphne ending. Otherwise? The magical world, I can take it or leave it, so long as I have Hermione and Daphne with me.”

Hermione nodded.

Whilst Neville and Professor McGonagall digested Harry’s words, Harry cast a spell to lock the kitchen door. Family magic meant that not even Voldemort or a team of goblins could open the kitchen door till Harry allowed it.

Harry pulled from his pocket the wand that Magic had given him, ten minutes ago. “Does everyone know what this is?”

“Dumbledore’s wand,” Hermione said.

“The wand that Magic awarded you, after judging both Professor Dumbledore and you,” Neville said.

McGonagall looked thoughtful. “It is Professor Dumbledore’s former wand, but I suspect it is more than this.”

“You’re right,” Harry said. “This is the Elder Wand, A-K-A the Deathstick, A-K-A the Wand of Destiny.”

Hermione and Neville gasped; McGonagall frowned.

Harry said. “The wand supposedly has a curse on it. I don’t want the curse, and I have _no_ interest in the extra magical power of this wand, so...”

 _Snap_ —Harry broke the Elder Wand in half, then let the two pieces drop to the tiled floor. Harry now pulled out his holly wand and—

“ _Incendio_.”

—burnt up the two pieces of old wood.

The other three people in the kitchen looked shocked.

McGonagall said, “I would like to believe that if the Elder Wand had been in my hands, I would have made the same choice. But I’m not sure this would be truth.”

Neville said, “Once again you amaze us, Harry.”

Harry looked at McGonagall and said, “Please make sure that the story of this is told at Hogwarts.”

“Starting with the headmaster,” Hermione said viciously.

****

**Back in the Grimmauld Place dining room**

After the twins, Alastor and Fleur (and Hermione) all took Unbreakable Vows to never discuss their secret flying mission without Harry’s permission, Harry spelled out the mission—

On 29th July, which was the day before Harry’s duel with Voldemort, the broom-flyers would be flying to Malfoy Manor, _above_ its wards. The broom-flyers’ mission would be “to ruin Moldyshorts’s planning session.”

“What is at ze _Malfoi_ Manor?” Fleur asked. She gave the name its French pronunciation.

“Voldemort,” Harry said. “Voldemort is living at Malfoy Manor.”

Fleur snorted. “Lord Flight-from-ze-Death lives at ze-Bad-Faith Manor. _Ha_ , ’ow a _ppropos_.”

Fred said, “No kidding, Harrikins, we are going to _attack_ Voldemort? We’re not going to stand about with our thumbs up our arses and wait months and months for _Voldy_ to attack _us?_ Wow, Mr Longbeard definitely is _not_ in charge here anymore.”

****

After this, the people who had stayed after the Order of the Phoenix meeting all Flooed home (or in Hermione’s case, was elf- _pop_ ped home). Everyone went to bed.

Whilst all the people Harry knew, both good and evil, slept, the latest edition of the _Daily Prophet_ was printed.

The latest edition featured Daphne Greengrass’s thoughts about Harry Potter, Hermione Granger’s thoughts about Harry Potter, and Harry Potter’s thoughts about Daphne Greengrass, Hermione Granger—and Lord Voldemort.

****

**Wednesday, 24th July, six days till the Duel  
** **Early morning, in Scotland**

Harry, Hermione, Neville and Daphne Flooed to the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. Once all four had walked outside, Harry pulled out a big, and utterly blank, piece of parchment.

Daphne asked, “What’s that for? Are you planning to write someone a letter now?”

Instead of Harry saying _Yes_ or _No_ , he touched the parchment with his wand and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Daphne gasped when the blank parchment suddenly turned into a map of the school.

Harry, whilst consulting the map, led the other three into Broomstix, then into a storeroom in the back of the building. There Harry found a door that opened into a secret tunnel.

About thirty minutes later, Harry and the others were inside Hogwarts Castle.

Now Harry showed Daphne and Neville another use for the Marauder’s Map: “Dumbledore is here, the other professors are here, Filch is here, Madame Pince is in this corner, and there are no students here now except us. My plan is to use the map to avoid our being seen between here and where we’re going.”

Daphne asked, “Where _are_ we going?”

Harry said, “Here’s my problem: I have six days to learn, and to be well practised at, magic I don’t know now. Well, the Potter library will help with some of that, and the Black library also will help. But I need more knowledge; I need the knowledge that’s _here_.”

“Do we really need all the sneaking around?” Neville asked. “What’s wrong with a professor finding us?”

Hermione asked, “Why use the Marauder’s Map to prevent professors from seeing us, when as soon as we walk into the library, Madame Pince will see us?”

Harry said, “Because we’re not going to the school library. Nor to the Ravenclaw Common Room library. And I’m trying to avoid any of the school portraits, as much as possible. Because what I _don’t_ want is for anyone who is compelled to report to Dumbledore—”

As Harry was talking, the four teens turned a corner.

Floating in the corridor in front of Harry and his friends, and facing Harry and his friends, were the ghosts called Nearly-Headless Nick, the Fat Friar, the Bloody Baron, and the Grey Lady.

“—seeing us,” Harry said, sighing.

****

**Meanwhile, elsewhere in Hogwarts Castle  
** **During breakfast in the Great Hall**

Albus Dumbledore sat in his golden throne and sulked.

Being rebuked last night for his supposed moral failures in the presence of the Order of the Phoenix members was humiliating beyond words.

Worse, when Dumbledore had been Apparated by Magic back to his office in Hogwarts, he had discovered that Fawkes was gone.

Worst of all, last night: to have the Elder Wand taken from him and given to the boy? _Unbearable!_

But Dumbledore had devised several plans already, how to get the Elder Wand back from the boy. Dumbledore took it for granted that Harry Potter would bring the Elder Wand with him when he returned to school on 1st September; once Harry and the Wand were both back in the castle, then the only issue left to be decided would be how Dumbledore would justify the many detentions that Harry would be given, once Dumbledore had both possession of the Elder Wand and the allegiance of the Elder Wand.

Another frustrating thing for Dumbledore this morning was that he was blocked from information he craved.

Last night at the Order meeting, Harry had apparently announced some major operation in the future that had involved broom-flying at a hundred feet above the ground—but Dumbledore could not find out what Harry had said! Molly had no clue, Arthur and Kingsley did not know much, and Alastor said he had taken an Unbreakable Vow not to spill secrets about the operation. Also, Harry at the meeting had revealed who “Fake Bellatrix” was; Dumbledore was keen to know who the Order woman was so he would know whom to owl an “I’m so disappointed in you” message to. Alas, Dumbledore had been unable to uncover this secret as well. Ironically, the switched-over oath of obedience was the reason that Arthur, Kingsley and Alastor gave for refusing to answer Dumbledore’s question about “Fake Bellatrix.”

Most disturbing of all, Harry had made another announcement at the meeting; and Arthur, Kingsley and Alastor all admitted that they _could_ tell Dumbledore the information—they were not blocked by oath or Vow—but they _would not_ tell. All three said in essence, “You’ll find out soon enough, Albus; and when you do, hopefully for once in your life, you won’t meddle with what Harry is doing.”

Dumbledore still was trying to guess what Harry’s “You’ll find out soon enough” plan might be, when an owl brought him a copy of this morning’s _Daily Prophet_.

Ten minutes later, Dumbledore was thinking, _Harry has challenged Tom to a_ duel? _Here at_ Hogwarts? _In_ six days? _Has the boy gone_ insane?

But then Dumbledore had a thought that made him smile: _If the duel kills the boy, this leaves the way clear for me to kill Voldemort myself, before the withering curse debilitates me and without a worry about any prophecy. Defeating both Grindelwald and Voldemort would cement my reputation as one of history’s great wizards_.

Dumbledore still was smiling when McGonagall leant over and murmured, “Last night, Harry snapped the Elder Wand”—the headmaster gasped—“then burnt the pieces to ash.” This news changed Dumbledore’s smile to a scowl.

****

**Meanwhile, in Malfoy Manor**

Even Dark Lords need to eat breakfast, and so Voldemort was at the moment in the Malfoy Manor dining room, sitting and eating at the head of the table.

The oval table was made of grey granite. The table was so big about, and so thick on top, that Lucius often boasted that the table was impossible for even a dozen Muggles to lift, much less carry; so the presence of the table in this room was proof of the family’s magical power.

Voldemort had never cared about that. All Voldemort cared about was whether Nagini could slither across the table without breaking the table, when the Malfoy Manor dining room was used as a Death Eater meeting room.

Then this morning’s _Daily Prophet_ arrived. Within minutes, Voldemort had many more things to care about.

“Lucius,” the Dark Lord said, “come here.”

The blond man stood up and walked towards Voldemort, his face showing none of the fear that was in his mind.

When Lucius Malfoy was standing before Voldemort, the Dark Lord said, “I gave you a _special_ book for safekeeping. It was supposed to _stay here_. Instead, you removed it, one thing led to another, and Potter learnt some of my secrets. _Today_ ”—Voldemort grabbed the newspaper one-handed, and shook the _Daily Prophet_ at Malfoy—“some of my secrets are printed in this newspaper. _Crucio!_ ”

Five minutes later, Voldemort finally ended the Cruciatus Curse on Malfoy. As the blond man writhed on the floor, Voldemort raised his voice so that everyone in the dining room could hear him—

“The Potter boy has challenged _me_ to a duel,” Voldemort said with haughty amusement. He paused whilst the Death Eaters laughed scornfully. “This duel is to be six days from now, at the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch, at noon. I’m sure Potter expects to face me alone, whilst his friends do nothing but watch from the spectator seats. I’m sure he expects Dumbledore, the Leader of the Light, likewise to watch the duel whilst otherwise doing nothing. I’m also sure Potter expects you lot to _quietly_ , _peacefully_ watch the duel from other spectator seats. I tell you, if the Potter boy believes these things, he is naïve. Come, people, we have six days to make plans.”

Amidst the cheering, Voldemort looked at Snape and said, “Come, Severus, walk with me. I have questions.”

****

**In Hogwarts Castle**

Harry and his three friends eyed the four House ghosts.

Harry said to the ghosts, “Should we feel honoured that we’ve attracted almost the full set of you? Only Peeves and Myrtle Warren aren’t here.”

(Daphne whispered to Hermione, “Harry knows Moaning Myrtle’s real name?” Hermione shushed her.)

Nearly-Headless Nick smiled. “Harry, it’s always good to see you! But we’re puzzled what you, Mr Longbottom, Miss Granger and...?”

“Daphne Greengrass, Heiress Greengrass,” Daphne said, dropping a curtsy.

“One from my House,” the Bloody Baron said.

“Bravo, Harry,” said Nick, beaming, “a Gryffindor betrothed to a Slytherin? The last time we saw this was ... your grandfather, Fleamont Potter, I do believe. Good show, lad!”

“Nick,” said the Grey Lady. “Why are they here _now?_ ”

“Right, right,” said Nearly-Headless Nick. To the teens, he said, “The school is between terms, and all four of you left the castle for the summer. So why are you sneaking into the castle today?”

Harry grinned. “We aren’t ‘sneaking in,’ we are making an unannounced untraditional entrance.” Dropping the smile, Harry asked the ghosts, “How much do you know about the Dark Lord Voldemort, formerly”—Harry glared at the Bloody Baron—“Tom Marvolo Riddle of Slytherin House?”

The Bloody Baron said, “I know that he is a disgrace to Salazar’s House. I know that he has taken suspicion of Muggle-borns, which is a good idea, and perverted it. He approves the wholesale murder of Muggle-borns and half-bloods, which is disgusting.”

Hermione demanded, “Why is suspicion of Muggle-borns a good idea?”

“Because your loyalties are always uncertain. When you are pushed to your limit, Muggle-born girl, can even your closest Hogwarts friends be _sure_ that you would choose the Wizarding world over the Muggle world?”

Hermione snapped, “And is this _my_ fault? Choosing to live in the Muggle world would be, for me, like vowing that I would never again use my right hand. The _only_ reason that I would consider such a thing, even for a second, is that the wizarding world continually makes me feel so unwelcome! If I ever _do_ turn my back on all this, people like Draco Malfoy of Slytherin will be a big reason why!”

The Grey Lady cleared her throat.

Harry looked at the four ghosts and said, “I’ve challenged Tom Riddle to a duel in six days, at the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. I’ve come to the castle to research offensive and defensive spells. I’m hoping that the Chamber of Secrets has a library of Parseltongue spells in it. If not”—Harry shrugged—“we’ll go to the regular library till Dumbledore throws us out.”

The Fat Friar asked, “If you’re here for research, not vandalism, and the research is intended to help you defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort, why do you think the headmaster will throw you out?”

Harry said, “Because a prophecy has been made about Voldemort and me. I have ‘the power to vanquish’ Voldemort, but I’m not guaranteed to win. Dumbles wants to sabotage me so that I’ll die, then he can waltz in, kill Riddle, and get the glory. I would bet my trust vault that if today we’re forced to go to the regular Hogwarts library to do research, Dumbles will throw us out on some pretext.”

Hermione said, “He’s telling the truth about Professor Dumbledore sabotaging him. The headmaster made Harry grow up with Muggle relatives who hated magic. They beat Harry, starved him and insulted him.”

Daphne gasped. “ _Merlin_ , Harry, is this true?”

Harry blushed. “Yeah.”

The Grey Lady snarled, “Stopping someone from doing library research should be a _crime_.”

The four ghosts looked at each other, engaging in a silent conversation. Nick held up a hand with its fingers splayed.

The Bloody Baron said to the teens, “We must report your presence to the headmaster, without delay. We choose to interpret this as ‘without _obvious_ delay.’ We shall delay five minutes before we tell the headmaster that you are headed for the Chamber of Secrets. Make good use of your time.”

“Thank you, Baron,” Harry said, bowing. Then he yelled over his shoulder, “ _Follow me!_ ” and took off running.

****

**Meanwhile, whilst walking the corridors of Malfoy Manor**

Voldemort asked Snape, “What is Potter thinking now? Why did he challenge me?”

Snape’s face did not change, and his voice remained calm, but inwardly he was frightened. “I cannot say, my lord.” When Snape was not _Crucio_ ’d then and there, he continued, “As many times as my godson provoked Potter, Potter never once started a fight against Draco. The brat is thinking new thoughts now.”

“Is this duel Dumbledore’s idea?”

“ _No_. If anything, the headmaster is telling everyone in the castle that Potter is ‘turning Dark.’ Which actually means that the boy refuses Dumbledore’s quote-unquote ‘guidance.’ ”

Voldemort nodded. “What about Potter’s parents? You knew them much better than you know the boy. If one of his parents had challenged me to a duel in 1981, what would they have been thinking?”

Snape told the Dark Lord what he wanted to hear: “If James Potter had challenged you, it would have been because Potter was brash, reckless. The thought that he might die would never have occurred to him.”

Snape, no fool, did not speak the other half of his answer: _If Lily Evans Potter had challenged you to a duel, it would have been because she had a plan. And Lord Voldemort, you wouldn’t have enjoyed your life when Lily carried out her plan_.

****

**In Hogwarts Castle**

All four teens were panting; they had just finished a sprint across the castle. They now were on the second floor, just outside a lavatory that had a big “OUT OF ORDER” sign on the door.

“You lot ready to go in?” Harry asked.

Neville asked, sounding horrified, “We’re going into a _girls’_ loo?

Daphne asked, sounding horrified, “We’re going into _Moaning Myrtle’s_ loo?”

Opening the bathroom door, Harry said, “Gryffindors charge ahead.” He walked inside.

Daphne started to say something; laughing Neville said, “Yes, Daphne, we already know.”

Meanwhile, four teenagers had become five. A flirty teenage-girl ghost yelled, “HARRY, YOU’RE BACK!”


	20. Duel Preparations, Part 2

**Wednesday, 24th July, six days till the Duel  
** **Mid-morning, in Moaning Myrtle’s lavatory  
** **Hogwarts SOW &W**

Harry saw Neville and Daphne, who were first-time visitors to this lavatory, looking about and frowning. Harry could understand their frowns.

Of the five toilet stalls in this lavatory, the door to the leftmost stall was hanging askew, by only one hinge. The lavatory floor was damp and mouldy. Of the seven porcelain sinks, three were chipped. The giant mirror that spanned all seven sinks was cracked. In short, this was not only a lavatory that was haunted, this was a lavatory that any visitor _would expect to be_ haunted.

But in the meantime, ghost-Myrtle just had spoken to Harry. “Yes, Myrtle, I’m back,” Harry replied cheerfully, “and I’ve brought friends.”

“One of whom is _handsome_ ,” said the fourteen-year-old, bespectacled ghost-girl, as she smiled warmly at Neville. “Since you’re a friend of Harry’s, I’ll let you stay in my loo.”

“Erm, thank you, Myrtle,” Neville said, as he shot Harry a _What do I say now?_ look.

Myrtle turned towards Daphne, and now the ghost’s face was not friendly at all. “I don’t know you, pretty girl. You’ve never been in my loo before, have you?”

“No, I haven’t,” Daphne said haughtily. “Allow me to introduce myself: I am Daphne Greengrass, Heiress Greengrass, a Slytherin.”

Myrtle got haughty right back: “Are you afraid of one little ghost? Is this why you haven’t come here before? I guess you Purebloods aren’t _brave_ , like _Muggle-born_ girls.” Myrtle shot a quick smile at Hermione, before again glaring at Daphne.

“Be nice, Myrtle,” Harry said. “I’m betrothed to Daphne. Actually, I’m betrothed to Hermione too.”

“ _What?_ ” Myrtle wailed. “You’re betrothed to _two_ girls, neither of whom is _me?_ _How could you, Harry?_ ”

Myrtle turned into a streak of green ectoplasm and flew away. Seconds later, Harry heard a _splash-glurgg_ sound. Roughly thirty seconds after that, water covered the entire floor of the lavatory.

Harry shrugged and said, “Let’s do what we came for. _§Open§_.” Part of the wall by the snake-faucet sink disappeared, revealing a down-sloping tunnel.

(When Harry’s scar had had its horcrux removed, twenty-five days ago, he had lost the ability to speak and to understand Parseltongue. But a sheet with a particular rune-sequence, which had been copied out of elderly Harry’s book-letter, gave young Harry these Parseltongue abilities back, when he wore the sheet under his shirt with the runes facing out.)

****

**Three minutes later, in the Chamber of Secrets**

The sixty-foot-long basilisk had been dead three years. It no longer stank, but it looked _disgusting_.

The corpse of the evil snake was just skin and bones now, with an ugly sludge underneath the body.

Daphne was staring at the basilisk. In a stunned voice, she said, “Harry, you killed this. You killed _this_. When you were _twelve_.”

Harry shrugged. “I didn’t kill her barehanded—I had use of the Sword of Gryffindor.”

“I stand corrected,” Daphne said drily. Then she turned and rushed over to Harry. She grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands, pulled him forward, and kissed him for at least ten seconds.

When Daphne broke the kiss, she said, “Harry, _thank you_ for saving everyone in the school. Including the _wankers_ in Slytherin.”

Harry said, “Erm, it was Hermione who figured out that a basilisk was doing the petrifications. I wouldn’t have come down here if not for Hermione’s clue.”

Hearing this, Daphne turned to face Hermione—

—and curtsied.

Harry felt a pang of disappointment at _not_ seeing a girl-on-girl kiss.

On the floor, a few feet away from the basilisk’s head was a big black blotch. In the sudden silence after Daphne’s long kiss, then not-kiss, Neville said, “Looks like someone kicked over an ink bottle during the fight.”

Harry said, “An ink bottle didn’t make that ink stain. The ink came out when I stabbed the Voldemort-possessed diary with a basilisk fang.”

Hermione said, “And this is where the basilisk bit you? You almost died _right here?_ ”

“Yes,” Harry said, “but then Fawkes the phoenix cried on my wound. This cancelled the poison, then I was fine.”

Hermione looked at Daphne and said, “For future reference, whenever Harry says ‘I’m fine,’ it _never_ means ‘I’m in robust good health.’ What it _always_ means is, ‘I’m technically alive now, but this might change soon.’ ”

“Understood,” said Daphne. “I gather I’ll be applying this knowledge in the future?”

Hermione laughed. “Yes, _often_ in the future.”

****

**Meanwhile, in Myrtle’s lavatory**

Hogwarts headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was frustrated. Correction: He was raging.

The House ghosts had told the headmaster that Harry and two Gryffindor friends _and Daphne Greengrass of Slytherin_ all were headed here, to the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Myrtle the ghost had (clearly unwillingly) admitted to the headmaster that he had just missed Harry; Harry had, only minutes ago, opened and then had closed the tunnel entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, by Harry speaking Parseltongue.

Which Dumbledore could not speak. But on the other hand, Dumbledore was the _headmaster_. The castle’s wards answered to him, and the ghosts and portraits obeyed him, so surely one tunnel entrance in one bloody lavatory would yield to Dumbledore’s will.

That was the theory, anyway. In practise, when Dumbledore had commanded the snake-faucet tunnel entrance to “Open up,” nothing had happened.

Dumbledore had tried every way he could think of, to command _Open up!_ in English. He had even tried saying _Please_. He then had tried speaking in French, German and Latin. The tunnel entrance had remained closed.

Now Dumbledore tried a new tactic: pulling rank explicitly. Whilst ghost-Myrtle smirked with her arms crossed, Dumbledore yelled, “I am Headmaster Dumbledore. Hogwarts, I _demand_ that you open this entrance to Slytherin’s Chamber of Secrets!”

A female marble statue appeared, wearing robes that were coloured the four House colours and that displayed the Hogwarts crest. The statue-woman lowered her chin a bit to look down her nose at seated Dumbledore, then she spoke with an odd accent—

“Order refused. You do not have sufficient authority for this override operation. Opening criteria that were set by Founder Slytherin remain as requirements.”

The statue-woman gave Dumbledore a disdainful sniff, then disappeared.

Dumbledore scowled. He would have spoken a long string of profanity, if not for the presence of the ghost-girl.

****

**Back in the Chamber of Secrets**

Harry faced the giant stone head of Salazar Slytherin and hissed. The head dropped its bearded jaw, revealing a tunnel beyond the sculpted mouth.

“Just out of curiosity,” Daphne said, “what did you say?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “The passphrase, and I am not joking, is ‘Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.’ ”

Neville said, “Everyone knows that the _true_ ‘greatest of the Hogwarts Four’ was Godric Gryffindor.”

Daphne rolled her eyes.

Hermione said, “If that’s the passphrase, this suggests one of three things: that A, Salazar Slytherin was the most conceited person ever to walk the Earth; B, Voldemort changed the passphrase; or C, Slytherin had a Weasley-twins sort of humour.”

“To the third, _please_ no,” Daphne said. “This world does _not_ need more humour like the Weasley twins’.”

Harry pointed to stone-Slytherin’s open mouth and the tunnel beyond it. “Shall we see what’s on the other side?”

****

On the other side of the tunnel, so four _Lumos_ lights revealed, was a big and empty room. The high ceiling, the floor, the back wall and the right-hand wall all were featureless flatness. The left-side wall had a door-sized cutout in it, but no door. The room _reeked_ —

“What is that _odour?_ ” Hermione demanded to know.

“The basilisk,” Harry said. “This is what the basilisk smelled like when I was fighting it.”

 _Foom_ —Harry heard the sound of a fire magically starting in a fireplace. Now Harry could see through the door-sized cutout in the left-side wall, to a fire-lit room beyond the doorway.

Harry walked through the doorway into another room, and the other three teens followed. As soon as Harry entered the room, four wall sconces lit themselves, adding more light to the fireplace’s light.

In this room, besides the fireplace and the wall sconces was a painting of a king cobra in grass, with the cobra’s hood spread; a green-upholstered couch that was wide enough for three adults; a green-upholstered chair that was set so it faced the couch but also received fireplace light from the right rear; and a bookcase. Hermione, no surprise, made a beeline for the bookcase—

—and immediately huffed in frustration. “I can’t read any of these!”

“What do you see?” Harry asked.

Hermione pulled a book off a shelf of the bookcase and flipped through it. “The front-cover text, the spine text and the text inside—it’s all the letter _s_ , in different sizes. The title of this book is _Sssssssss sss Ssssss_.”

“May I see it? Harry asked. Hermione handed the book to him.

“I guess it’s written in Parseltext,” he said. “I can read it easily. The title, by the way, is _Dementors and Demons_.”

Harry opened the book to a random page. After a pause, he said, “It says here that if you put someone who is affected by a Love or Lust potion near a Dementor, the two magics cancel each other out. The person doesn’t get depressed by the Dementor, but the potion in him stops working. So if you want to stop a Love potion that is working on someone but you can’t brew a purging potion for some reason, grab a Dementor.”

Neville made a face. “I think in that case, I’d flip a sickle.”

A little more exploration of the room revealed a door to a bedroom. In the bedroom was a large and posh canopy bed, but no more books.

When Harry returned to the sitting room, Neville said, “For a Founder’s secret hideaway, this is disappointing. I’ve been in Professor Sprout’s faculty quarters, and her bookcase is just as big as this one.”

Harry stroked his chin and thought hard. “Maybe Salazar called it ‘the Chamber of _Secrets_ ’ for a reason.”

Harry hurried out through the cut-out doorway and into the smelly “snake room.” When Daphne, Hermione and Neville stood in that room too, Harry called out, “ _§Reveal hidden doors§_.”

On the left-side wall, nothing happened. But a door appeared on the back wall and a door appeared in the middle of the right-side wall.

It took a little trial-and-error, but Harry eventually discovered that the back-wall door opened when he said, “ _§Unlock this previously-hidden door§_.”

Beyond this door was a combination potions lab and ritual floor. Harry decided that whilst the room was well worth exploring, Harry would not bother doing so until after Voldemort and his minions were shut down. Harry let everyone glance in; then he shut the door, locked it and hid it.

The door on the right-side wall, it turned out, opened into a library that was half as big inside as the regular Hogwarts library, and (according to Daphne) was bigger than the Ravenclaw Common Room library.

When Hermione stepped through the door and saw Salazar Slytherin’s hidden library, she started breathing hard—which made her cough and choke.

****

Every horizontal surface in the library—the floor, the tabletop, the chair seats, the tops of the chairs and the chair armrests—all were covered with a coating of grey dust that was thicker than Harry had ever imagined. Vertical surfaces—the green spines of books, the edges of wooden bookshelves—had a greyish tinge.

When Harry walked into the library, two things happened. The first was that grey dust on the floor swirled around his feet and legs. The second thing to happen was that he started coughing because of the thick dust.

Harry conjured four surgical breathing masks, and handed the masks out to the other teens. Neville and Daphne had to be shown how to don the masks.

Harry was just about to summon Dobby to come get rid of all the _bloody_ dust when Hermione squeezed his forearm. “Harry, do you notice something? Something that is _not_ here?”

When Harry shook his head, Hermione said, “ _Footprints!_ I see no footprints on the floor, and no handprints on the table. Now, would you say this is _fifty_ years’ worth of dust, or _hundreds of years’_ worth of dust?”

“Hundreds and hundreds of years,” Daphne said, her voice slightly distorted by her breathing mask. “Which means—”

Now Harry was grinning (though nobody else could tell, because of the mask that covered his face). He theatrically gestured from right to left, to claim all the books in the room. “ _This_ , ladies and gentleman, is another part of the ‘power the Dark Lord knows not.’ _Dobby!_ ”

Harry soon learnt that removing a thousand years of dust from a big room made a house-elf truly joyful. Dobby at the end was crying, he was so happy.

When Slytherin’s library was dust-free, and Dobby was thanked and was gone, Harry looked at his friends and said, “Let’s get to work.”

****

**Back in Myrtle’s lavatory**

Dumbledore thundered, “Hogwarts School, harken! I, Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, _demand_ that you immediately open this tunnel entrance to the Chamber of Secrets!”

Silence. Stillness.

Then Myrtle murmured, “What a blighter.”

The tunnel entrance did not reply to Dumbledore’s command; but it still did not open, either.

Dumbledore scowled, as he thought mean thoughts about both Salazar Slytherin and Harry Potter.

****

**In Salazar Slytherin’s hidden library**

Laying in the centre of the big table was a slim book whose cover was Parseltext-titled _§Read This First§_.

Harry opened the book to the beginning of the text, and read for a minute. Then he said, “ _This_ is interesting.”

Harry walked to the shelves, pulled five green-covered books off the same shelf, then carried the green-covered books to the table. “ _§Conjure translations§_ ,” Harry said, as he drew a reverse- _D_ with the tip of his wand.

Instantly five blue-covered books appeared next to the five green-covered books. Harry slid the five blue-covered books to his three friends. “ _These_ books, you should be able to read.”

Hermione smiled at Harry. “The translations are even in a modern serif font.” Daphne and Neville agreed that they could read the other blue-covered books without difficulty.

Harry smiled at his friend Neville, and at his future wives. “Now you can help me with library research, even though you can’t read Parseltext.”

****

**Ten minutes later**

Neville found a sneaky offensive spell, _§Slowly§_. The victim moved slowly, spoke slowly and fell easily; and perceived everyone else as zipping about and talking too fast to understand. Even when the victim knew the cancelling spell, _§Stop Slow§_ , it took the victim “to near the count of twenty” to speak those two Parseltongue words.

****

**Thirty minutes later**

Hermione lowered the blue-covered book she was holding and said, “Do you like zombie movies, Harry?”

Harry shrugged. “Don’t know. Have never seen one.”

“In this book, _Jinxes, Hexes and Curses for the Vengeful_ , they describe the Living Decomposition Curse. It doesn’t affect your internal organs till last, the book says, but your skin and muscles decay so that you look and smell like a rotting corpse. You go blind almost instantly.”

Harry smiled. “ _Hm_ , a curse that makes a living person seem like a zombie. Whoever came up with this curse was using his _brainsss_.”

****

**Thirty minutes later**

Harry laughed. “Oi, everyone, here are two interesting spells. Now watch this, _§Gladius§_.”

Harry’s eleven-inch, holly-wood wand turned into a steel, forearm-length sword. The sword was two inches wide, with no taper at all except at the tip; the centre of the sword was a half-inch thick. Harry ran his left index finger across the sword-edges; he discovered that the left and right edges were not fearsomely sharp.

“But notice,” grinning Harry said, “it still works as a wand. _Lumos_.”

The pointy tip of the sword-wand glowed brightly.

“Bloody brilliant,” said Daphne.

Harry still was grinning. “Now watch this. _Nox_. _§Finite gladium§_. _§Become rose§_.”

The gladius-sword turned back into Harry’s holly wand, before shifting again to become a red rose with an eleven-inch stem. Harry then proved that the rose in his hand could cast spells almost as well as his holly wand could.

****

**Meanwhile, in Myrtle’s lavatory**

Dumbledore had conjured a grand chair, and had seated himself by the snake-faucet sink. When Harry left the Chamber of Secrets, and walked up the tunnel and into the lavatory, Dumbledore would be waiting for him.

Dumbledore considered the problem of how to Obliviate all of Harry’s today-gained knowledge, when he eventually would emerge from the tunnel with three friends with him. Such a task would be a challenge for Dumbledore, since he no longer had the use of the Elder Wand; plus, his Obliviating of Harry would have three witnesses.

****

**Hours later: 6:20 p.m.  
** **In the library of the Chamber of Secrets**

The teens by now had looked through more than sixty green-covered books or their blue-covered translations.

All four teens had discovered spells that could be used in the upcoming duel: both offensive and defensive. They had made notes about each spell, plus the title of the blue-cover book that each spell was described in.

The four teens then shared their findings. Alas, nobody had found the Holy Grail of defensive spells: a spoken Parseltongue spell that would block all three Unforgivables. However, Hermione had found a supercharged Parseltongue version of _Protego_ that lasted longer before attacks could destroy it. (Alas, _§Protego§_ also magically exhausted its caster much faster than did regular _Protego_.)

After everyone shared their findings, Harry copied the matching green-cover, Parseltext books, then the green duplicate-books were dropped into Hermione’s beaded handbag.

Harry vanished the blue-cover translations and put the green-cover books that had come from shelves here, back on those shelves. (For respecting library books, Harry was given a kiss by Hermione.)

By now, everyone was hungry, so it was time to leave the Chamber of Secrets. But how could the four teens leave the Chamber, when surely Dumbledore was waiting to pounce?

Everyone left the library and entered the “snake room”; then Harry locked, then hid, the library door. The four teens walked out of the “snake room” tunnel and stepped out of stone-Slytherin’s open mouth.

Now Harry was again in the main chamber, and he again saw the corpse of the slain basilisk. A thought occurred to him: _This monster snake was a thousand years old when it died. How did it eat? Surely it ate more than whatever rats wandered in. There must be a way the basilisk could leave here to go hunt_.

Then a way to solve this mystery occurred to Harry. “Greyclay,” he called. Unlike Dobby and Winky, Greyclay had no connexion to Hogwarts at all; _if_ the Hogwarts wards would let Greyclay enter the Chamber of Secrets, then Dumbledore would have nothing he could threaten Greyclay wi—

 _Pop_. The Potter head house-elf asked Harry, “How can Greyclay serve Lord Black-Potter?”

Harry said, “The dead basilisk here, somehow it could leave the Chamber of Secrets to hunt. Find out how it left.”

“Greyclay obeys Lord Black-Potter.” _Pop_.

All the teens were silent whilst they waited for the house-elf to return. Ten seconds after the house-elf disappeared, he _pop_ ped back.

“Lord Black-Potter,” the house-elf said, “Greyclay found sneaky-sneaky tunnel that big evil snakey used.”

“Walk us there, don’t magically transport us just yet,” Harry commanded.

From the Myrtle-lavatory tunnel and the gap in the caved-in ceiling, to Slytherin’s stone head, was a wide stone walkway with statues of hissing snakes on either side. Harry had not noticed, three years ago—his mind had been busy with other thoughts at the time—but the hissing-snake statues were far enough apart from each other that the basilisk could have slithered between them.

Now Greyclay walked on the stone walkway towards the cave-in, but between the fourth and fifth snake-statues on the right side, Greyclay turned right. When Harry turned to follow Greyclay, he saw ahead a weakly-glowing hole in the Chamber’s wall ahead. Greyclay led Harry right up to the hole in the wall; now Harry could smell fresh air. Harry saw that the hole was just big enough that he could stick his hand, up to his thumb, in the hole.

Greyclay said to Harry, “Lord Black-Potter must say the same snakey-words that brought Lord Black-Potter to big room, to open this tunnel.”

“ _§Open§_ ,” Harry said. The tiny hole enlarged itself, till nothing blocked the four teens from entering a tall, wide tunnel beyond the wall. The tunnel was long as well—the glow of sunlight was far ahead.

Harry waited till his three friends had stepped into the tunnel, then spoke “ _§Close§_ ” to return the configuration to having a stone wall at the end of the tunnel with a small hole in the wall.

Then Harry said, “Greyclay, please let us know when we’re beyond the wards.” Harry let Greyclay set the walking-pace, whilst Harry and the others followed the house-elf.

Maybe two minutes later, four teenaged humans and a house-elf were walking along the much-brighter tunnel. Greyclay said, “Lord Black-Potter, Greyclay now is beyond the wards. Step forwards and Lord Black-Potter will be beyond the wards too.”

Harry stepped forwards—and felt like he received a static-electricity shock.

Seconds later, Harry, Hermione, Daphne and Neville all were outside the Hogwarts wards.

****

**Meanwhile, in Myrtle’s lavatory**

Dumbledore suddenly leapt up from his chair. “ _No_ , not the basilisk tunnel! How did Harry find out about that?”

Ghost-Myrtle sneered, “Did my handsome Harry escape the castle without talking to you? Aww, poor ickle _overreaching_ headmaster.”

****

**Back in the basilisk tunnel**

Out of curiosity, Harry continued walking out of the tunnel. At the end of the tunnel was an iron grate, with the horizontal and vertical bars so close together than no creature bigger than a kitten could enter the tunnel. Outside the grate, Harry saw trees, nervous squirrels and a twenty-foot-diameter spider web between two trees.

“ _§Open§_ ,” Harry said. With a loud noise, the iron grate rose up out of sight.

“ _§Close§_ ,” Harry commanded. The grate noisily moved down again, to again block anyone who was outside from entering the tunnel.

“This last little part of the hike was for you, Hermione,” Harry said. “I knew you’d be curious.”

Hermione grinned at Harry and kissed him.

At Harry’s command, Greyclay elf- _pop_ ped the teens from the basilisk tunnel to Potter Manor.


	21. Duel Preparations, Part 3

**Wednesday, 24th July, six days till the Duel  
** **About 6:30 p.m., Potter Manor**

The Potter Manor head house-elf, Greyclay, just had elf- _pop_ ped Harry, Hermione, Neville and Daphne to Potter Manor from the basilisk tunnel.

Now Harry shook Neville’s hand, and hugged (and kissed) Hermione and Daphne. Harry told each of the three teens, “Thanks for your help today in researching Parseltongue spells. _When_ I win the Duel, it will be because of you.”

Just before the others left Potter Manor, Harry again hugged and kissed Daphne (and Hermione). Harry murmured to Daphne, “I’m glad I’m betrothed to you.”

Daphne looked shocked.

****

**Meanwhile in the headmaster’s office, HSOW &W**

Dumbledore still was angry that Harry had slipped into and out of the castle without seeking the headmaster’s permission; and furthermore, Harry had thwarted Dumbledore’s plans to make the boy leave the castle empty-handed and Obliviated.

 _It’s time_ , angry Dumbledore thought, _that the boy be reminded of his place in the world_. Dumbledore sat down and wrote Harry a letter—

_Dear Harry,_

_As many times as Professor Snape has loudly spoken of your “immaturity,” I must agree with him now. You are not ready to duel Tom Riddle, and it was foolish to challenge the Dark Lord to a duel on 30th July._

_For your own protection, I as headmaster deny you permission to use the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch for your duel. Also a consideration: Even if no children are present at school on 30th July, I refuse to drop the school’s wards during the time that Tom and his Death Eaters would be present at the pitch._

_I am disappointed in you, Harry. I know you grieve for your godfather, but it is time to lay your grief aside and to grow up._

_Regretfully,_

_(signed) Albus Dumbledore_

****

**Ten minutes later  
** **Still in the headmaster’s office**

Filius Flitwick walked in, showing his usual cheerful face. “Good evening, headmaster, I have a request. I need time off for personal reasons. I shall return to the castle on 1st August.”

Dumbledore took a breath to say yes—then remembered that Flitwick was the best duelist in the school, whilst Harry planned to duel the Dark Lord in six days. _Does Filius want time off so that he can spend six days training Harry how to duel?_ So instead of quickly agreeing to Flitwick’s request, Dumbledore asked, “What are the ‘personal reasons’ for which you wish to leave the school, Filius?”

Flitwick’s smile disappeared. “My ‘personal reasons’ are _personal_ , headmaster.”

“And if I refuse you permission to leave, because I suspect you _plan to meet often with Harry?_ ”

“My contract states that my time during Summer Break is entirely my own, up to 25th August. But if you insist that I must stay here, despite the contract—”

Flitwick waved his wand, and a half-foot parchment appeared in front of him. Flitwick’s free hand snatched the parchment out of the air.

“—then honour requires I must, most regretfully, submit my _immediate_ resignation.”

“Filius, you don’t want to do anything foolish, such as severing your employment with the best magical school in Europe.”

Flitwick said, “You joke, headmaster. Hogwarts is _not_ the best magical school in Europe; talking to the professors at Beauxbatons and Durmstrang made this _quite_ clear. Within Wizarding Britain, Manchester Magical Academy averages 50 percent more Outstanding N.E.W.T. scores per student than does Hogwarts.”

Flitwick looked hard at Dumbledore and added, “I have standing job offers from Manchester Magical Academy, Beauxbatons and Gringotts—or I could turn pro on the magical dueling circuit. So, Headmaster Dumbledore, do you truly want to play the same power-games with _me_ you play with _Harry Potter?_ ” Flitwick held out his resignation letter so that it almost, but not quite, touched the top of Dumbledore’s desk.

The results were that Flitwick got his week away from the castle, and Dumbledore got angry again.

****

**Minutes later**

An owl delivered to Dumbledore, Harry’s reply to Dumbledore’s letter—

_Headmaster,_

_I laughed at your statement that explained why you were refusing me usage of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch for next Tuesday’s Duel with Tommy. You claimed your reason was “for [my] own protection.” Coming from you, the wizard who personally left me with the Dursleys and never looked in on me afterwards, “[I’m doing this] for your own protection” was a knee-slapper! Next time, tell me that Professor Snape works a second job as a birthday-party clown—such a statement would be easier for me to believe._

_But I figured you’d pull something like this, whilst giving me a flimsy excuse to “explain” it, so I’ve already taken action. I’ve talked to Puddlemere United and the Holyfield Harpies about using one of their Quidditch stadiums. Both Quidditch clubs agreed quickly, once I offered to pay for all repairs caused by spell damage. In return for this guarantee, I asked each stadium to put certain names on their wards-enforced “shit list” during the day of the Duel._

_What I’m saying here is that if I’m forced to have my Duel somewhere other than Hogwarts, then certain people will not be allowed to stand with me on the pitch during the Duel, nor will they be allowed to watch the Duel as spectators; stadium wards will keep them away. Those people will be: Molly Weasley, Elphias Doge, Severus Snape, Mundungus Fletcher—and you._

_So if you want to bask in reflected limelight next Tuesday, this will happen only at Hogwarts. Be assured that the Duel between Tommy and me_ will _happen next Tuesday, regardless of what you do between now and then._

_Harry_

_P.S. According to_ Hogwarts: A History _, which a close friend of mine reads for entertainment, the Hogwarts Castle wards do not reach to the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. So your statement that “I refuse to drop the school’s wards during the time that Tom and his Death Eaters would be present at the pitch” is misleading. I just thought you should know that I know that you tried twice in one letter to lie to me._

Dumbledore, reading Harry’s letter, wanted to snarl. He had been completely outflanked by the boy—how had _this_ happened? Dumbledore’s only choice now was to write back and to tell Harry he was permitted to use the Hogwarts pitch, because of some made-up reason; the duel being held anywhere that Dumbledore was put on a “shit list” was unacceptable—

Because for glory-hog Dumbledore, _not_ being the centre of attention was annoying, but being banned from an event that everyone was talking about, was downright painful.

But clearly Harry had figured this out; Dumbledore the manipulator _hated_ the idea that he himself had been easily analysed, then manipulated.

****

**Not quite five days later  
** **Monday, 29th July, about 6 p.m.  
** **Eighteen hours till the Duel  
** **In the potions laboratory of Malfoy Manor**

Severus Snape was brewing a Blood-Replenishment potion; he was alone in the laboratory. As brewing-requirements allowed, he meanwhile was writing with a quill on parchment. Anyone watching from a distance would presume that Snape was writing technical notes about the potion-brewing.

But such a presumption would have been wrong.

When Snape had finished his writing, he did a bit of foolish wand-waving, in order to instantly dry the ink. Snape folded the parchment, then charmed a wax seal to hold the folded parchment flat.

Snape’s face and voice were emotionless, as usual; but his mind was jumpy and scared. He thought, _If Voldemort reads what I’ve just written, I’m dead_.

Speaking barely above a whisper, Snape said, “May I have a Hogwarts house-elf, please?”

 _Pop_. The house-elf said, “Professor Snapey, how can Swotty help you?”

Snape handed over the wax-sealed parchment. “The first of September, after the Sorting—if I’m in the Great Hall, give this back to me. If I’m not in the Great Hall, give this to Harry Potter. If neither Potter nor I are in the Great Hall, give this to Minerva McGonagall.”

“Swotty will do this,” the house-elf promised. _Pop_ —both Swotty and the folded parchment disappeared.

Snape let himself breathe a sigh of relief.

****

**Meanwhile in Greengrass Manor  
** **Eighteen hours till the Duel**

Daphne Greengrass was dining with her family. Her mother noticed Daphne fidgeting. “Are you worried about Harry tomorrow?” Opal Greengrass asked.

Daphne replied, “Not as much as a week ago, no. Harry’s been dueling almost nonstop with Professor Flitwick, and Harry was already an outstanding duelist in fifth year. I’m not relaxed about his chances tomorrow, but I’m not frantic, either.”

Astoria asked, “Are you scared for yourself, then? Tomorrow, you and Granger will be standing with Potter.”

Daphne looked at her sister with pursed lips. “Use their first names, Tori. After all, one day Harry will be my husband, and Hermione will be my co-wife. Referring to them by last name makes it sound like they’re unwelcome strangers.”

“But Gr—but _Hermione_ is a Muggle-born.”

“She is—and she regularly earns better marks than every Pureblood in our year. So much for ‘Pureblood superiority’! Anyway, I’d hoped for better from you, Tori. I know you fancied Draco Malfoy—do you need to talk like him too?”

Astoria, her cheeks red, suddenly took a keen interest in the food on her plate.

Cyrus Greengrass said, “I think you girls got sidetracked, but Daphne, I wish to hear your answer to Astoria’s question. Tomorrow you will be standing with Harry and facing You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters; how much does this frighten you?”

“It terrifies me, Father—it terrifies me as much as when students at Hogwarts were being petrified during second year, and nobody knew who was causing it, or how.”

Then Daphne raised her chin, as she eyed every other member of her family. “But though I’m frightened, tomorrow at high noon I will stand next to my future husband and I will save him from his enemies.”

Daphne had a second reason that she was nervous tonight, but she spoke not a whisper of this to her family. Daphne knew that Harry planned to attack Malfoy Manor tonight, and he might well be dead by sunset.

****

**Meanwhile in Potter Manor  
** **Eighteen hours till the Duel**

_Pop_. Greyclay brought Hermione to the library of Potter Manor, where she joined Fleur, “Mad-Eye” Moody, George and Fred—and Harry. Everyone except Hermione was gripping a flying-broom.

Harry was wearing the same magic-radio headset that he had worn on his Malfoy Manor scouting mission, eight days ago. He handed the duplicate magic-radio headset to Hermione, who placed it on her head. Harry and Hermione briefly turned their backs on each other and did radio-cheques; their headsets turned out to be working fine.

Then Harry ordered, “Everyone please face the portraits.”

When Harry, the other four broom-riders and Hermione all were facing the portraits, Harry said, “Mum, Dad, Grandfather, Grandmother, ancestor Potters, the six of us leave to attack Voldemort at Malfoy Manor, in a way that’s never been done before. Best-case scenario, we’re about to put ourselves into the history books—and _not_ for goblin rebellions! Worst case, Hermione will be the only one of us alive at sundown.”

Hermione slapped Harry’s arm. “Prat! I expect you to be healthy and _kissing me_ at sundown.”

Portrait-Lily said, “I’m so proud of you, Harry. I’m sure you’ll do fine.” Then Portrait-Lily’s voice turned businesslike. “Hermione, the tracking-charm that you cast on Harry’s broom, eight days ago, should still work. So my only worry is that you’ll do a bad job of navigation whilst Harry and his group are in the air.”

Hermione squared her shoulders. “I won’t lead him astray, Lily Potter. This I promise.”

Harry rubbed his hands together. “Well then, you four, shall we go outside and begin the work of ruining Lord Voldemort’s plans, and of hopefully ending his life?”

****

**Minutes later  
** **At Potter Manor’s Quidditch pitch**

On the pitch stood Harry, his four broom-rider volunteers and Hermione (who had asked if she could watch).

Harry said, “First, some business. Twins, I know you two played Quidditch whilst in school. Fleur, Alastor, how about you?”

Mad-Eye said, “I was a Chaser.”

Fleur said, “I did not go for _ze_ team, but often I played _ze_ friendly match with _ze_ yearmates.”

Harry said, “Good enough. Now I’ll tell you more about the mission. I told you we’ll be flying more than a hundred feet high. Actually, I still won’t tell you the exact height, but heading to Malfoy Manor, we’ll be flying more than _five hundred_ feet high.”

“Blimey,” Fred murmured. George, Mad-Eye and Fleur simply stared.

Harry said, “And this will change how each of you ride your broom. But before we mount our brooms, I want the five us to form a circle. Everyone get your wands in hand. Now, starting with Fleur, I want you to cast the Sticking Charm to glue your right-side neighbour’s wand to his hand, then your right-side neighbour will cast the Sticking Charm on his right-side neighbour’s wand, etc.”

When that was done, Harry said, “Everyone please mount your brooms now. Brooms close to me, at three feet or one metre above the ground.”

After this was done, Harry said, “Notice how all of you are sitting: straight up, so that you can look forwards and look about. Now, also notice how all of you have your hands placed: holding the back of the broomstick and both hands placed just a little forwards of your bits. Now, if you don’t already have your hands set this way, put your wand-hand close to your bits and your free hand forwards of your wand-hand.” Harry paused whilst the other four obeyed. “This is the position I want you in as we fly to Malfoy Manor; I’m calling it ‘flight position.’ ”

Harry continued, “With your wand-hand gripping the broomstick, slide your free hand forwards along the broomstick shaft and bend your upper body forwards. When you’ve bent enough forwards that you can see the ground below you, have your free hand grab the broomstick firmly and lock your elbow. Then your wand-hand should let go of the broomstick; bring your wand-hand out in front of you with your wand pointed straight down. Everyone try it now.”

Seconds later, Harry said, “I’m calling this posture ‘attack position.’ Everyone practise attacking: Fire a Stinging Hex at the ground directly below your eyes.”

Nobody seemed to have a problem achieving this. Harry asked, “Any questions?”

Fleur asked, “ ’arry, in _ze_ ‘flight position,’ why do we put our hands this way?”

Harry answered, “Because when we get where we’re going, we will be looking straight down and firing our wands straight down. Before we do this, each of us must move our free hand along the broomstick as we lean forwards. When you’re high up, this will be scary enough when you start with your hands set right. If you start with your hands set wrong, so that you wobble a bit at first, getting into attack position becomes absolutely terrifying.”

“Makes sense,” George said.

Harry asked, “Hermione, are you ready to go? Any problems with you?”

Hermione answered. “None. I’m ready when you lot are.”

“ _Kreacher!_ ” Harry said.

 _Pop_. The elderly house-elf appeared. “How can Kreacher serve the Lord Black?”

“Is everything set for Plan One? Or are there any problems I need to know about? I’ve already tweaked the ward ledger.”

“Plan One is ready to go,” Kreacher said. “The Black family townhouse is ready to receive its _special_ visitor.”

“Thank you, Kreacher. You may go.” _Pop_.

“ _Dobby!_ ” Harry said.

 _Pop_. Dobby appeared, standing on the Quidditch pitch. His head was forwards and to the right of Harry’s bum on the broom.

Grinning Dobby asked, “How can Dobby serve Great Harry Potter Sir?”

Harry asked, “Dobby, can you elf- _pop_ onto the very front of this broom handle, so that you’re astride it and facing me?”

“Not a problem, Great Harry Potter Sir.” _Pop_.

But it turned out that there _was_ a problem: As soon as Dobby was sitting on the forward end of the broomstick, the broomstick dipped ten degrees down. Harry’s previously-stationary broom began to slowly move both forwards and downwards.

Harry asked, “Dobby, can you make yourself weightless?”

“Master Harry Potter is so smart! Yes, Dobby can make himself weightless.”

“Brilliant! Get off the broom and back on the ground”— _pop_ , Dobby did this—“and wait till I’m back where I was.” Seconds later, when Harry was three feet off the ground and his broomstick was level, he said, “Weightless Dobby, come to me.”

 _Pop_. Dobby, as previously ordered, now was sitting on the end of Harry’s broomstick and was facing Harry. But this time, Harry’s broomstick did not tilt or move.

Harry said to Dobby, “The next time I call you, I will be high in the air. Please appear astride my broom, weightless, facing me. Goodbye for now.”

“Dobby will do his part to help Great Harry Potter Sir rescue people and house-elves.” _Pop_.

The twins asked, “Harry, what’s up—”

“—with your house-elves?”

Harry answered, “Whilst the five of us are bringing down death and destruction on the Death Dunderheads, Dobby and Kreacher will be carrying out humanitarian rescues.”

“You’re a good man, Harry,” Hermione said, smiling at him.

Harry said, “Oi, team, I want all of us to spend five minutes shifting between flight position and attack position; when you’re in attack position, fire stinging hexes at the pitch directly below your eyes.”

Harry caught the twins rolling their eyes at each other.

“Mates, I know what you’re thinking. When you’re three feet off the ground, spending five minutes on this seems like pointless busywork. But when we’re over Malfoy Manor, more than five hundred feet above the ground, you’ll be glad we had this practise time.”

****

**Five minutes later  
** **Still at Potter Manor’s Quidditch pitch**

After the poor Quidditch pitch repeatedly had been stung with hexes, Harry said, “Everyone gather round. Hermione, you too.”

When all eyes were on him, Harry said, “I’ve challenged Moldyshorts to a duel tomorrow. I’m sure he plans to show up.

“I’m also sure that tonight he’s meeting with all his Death Eaters. Now, if Voldy were an _honourable_ man, tonight’s meeting in Malfoy Manor would be a brief one. ‘Oi, lads, tomorrow I’ll be dueling the Boy Who Lived at the Hogwarts pitch. Go home, spend the evening with your spouses and your sprogs, and I’ll see you lot tomorrow at Hogwarts. Afterwards, I’m buying the firewhiskies!’

“In other words, if Voldy were an honourable Dark Lord, then when we blew up Malfoy Manor, the only evil blokes to die would be Voldy and Lucius Malfoy, because all the other Death Eaters already would have left.

“But Voldy _isn’t_ honourable. He’s a murderer, a liar, a thief, a bully and a fraud. Right now I’d bet my entire trust vault that he’s ordered everyone who even _thought_ of taking the Dark Mark to come to Malfoy Manor, and the lot of them are in Lucius’s house, plotting evil deeds that they intend to carry out tomorrow.

“Dumbledore is probably worried about Voldy and all those Mortis Munchers in one place, plotting. But I’m not _worried_ , I’m _excited_. Because once the five of us ride high to Malfoy Manor, we’re going to find ourselves in, to use a Muggle expression, a ‘target-rich environment.’ And there will be _justice_ in us making a deadly sneak attack on murdering and raping terrorists.”

Harry looked around, his eyes glowing with fervent passion. “Any questions?”

Nobody had questions. All four broom-riders looked eager—plus Hermione looked eager.

“One last thing,” Harry said. “If we do a good enough job this evening, neither Voldy nor his sort will be alive for the Duel tomorrow. Defeating him in the Duel will be nice, but winning by a forfeit would be even better.”

Then Harry gave his team a bloodthirsty grin. “All right, lads! And _mademoiselle_. Let’s ride to Malfoy Manor and give Tom Marvolo Riddle what he so richly deserves!”


	22. Kill da Wabbit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the 1957 Warner Brothers cartoon _What’s Opera, Doc?_ , character Elmer Fudd tries to sing “Kill the rabbit” over and over. But poor Elmer speaks with a harelip.
> 
> At the very beginning of _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ , in July 1996, Death Eaters kidnap Florean Fortescue, the owner of the “Ice Cream Parlour” of the same name; and they kidnap Garrick Ollivander, the wandmaker. The two wizards then are held prisoner in Malfoy Manor. In canon, Fortescue is killed sometime during the summer of 1996 (according to an interview with JKR), but Ollivander is rescued in March 1998.

**6:14 p.m., eighteen hours before the Duel  
** **Still on Potter Manor’s Quidditch pitch**

Harry said to his four broom-flyers (and to listening Hermione), “Before we begin, two things. First of all, do you four know how to _Rise_ and _Drop_ on a broomstick? It’s not a move you would ever make in a Quidditch match. You don’t move forwards or backwards, or left or right, you just move straight up or straight down whilst the broomstick stays level with the ground.”

The twins smirked at Harry, whilst “Mad-Eye” gave Harry a look of _Don’t try to teach your grandmother how to suck eggs_. But Fleur said, “I do not know what you mean. Other than _ze_ Quidditch, all my flying is in my Firebird form.”

Harry said, “Imagine you’re floating on your broom, not moving in any direction. Overhead is a construction crane. A cable comes down from the crane, and I wrap the cable around your broomstick. When the crane operator takes in cable, you rise straight up. When the crane operator lets out cable, you sink straight down. But other than moving up at a steady speed or down at a steady speed, your broom doesn’t move.”

“You can do _zis_ on _ze_ broom?”

“Yes. Try it now.”

Once the idea was explained to Fleur, she picked it up on the first try.

Harry said, “My second topic, which is an order: From now till we’ve returned to the pitch and I’ve taken off this headset, don’t use any names. I’m not ‘Harry,” I’m ‘Leader.’ Hermione is ‘Base.’ And you lot are”—Harry pointed at Alastor, then Fleur, then Fred, then George—“ ‘One,’ ‘Two,’ ‘Three’ and ‘Four.’ Understand?”

George said, “ _I_ understand you perfectly, but Three is the _thick_ sort.”

Fred replied, “At least I’m not _ugly_ , Four.”

Grinning Harry said, “Stop, you two. Time for talk is over; let’s get going. Let me cast this Parseltongue group-disillusionment spell, then you follow me as I rise up. Hermione, I’ll turn the headset-radio back on when we’ve reached cruising altitude.”

Hermione nodded. “Harry? _Come home_.”

Harry did not reply; instead, he and his broom silently rose higher off the ground.

****

**Minutes later  
** **1,007 feet above Potter Manor’s Quidditch pitch**

George asked, “Just how up _are_ we? I’m sure we’re much more than five hundred feet up.”

Harry grinned, even as he was shaking his head. “I’m not telling you. This is one secret I’ll take to my grave.”

Fleur asked, “Is _zis_ why you have hissed at your wand, and your wand has hissed back? To keep _ze_ secret?”

“Exactly.”

“Good planning, Leader,” said Mad-Eye. “What we others don’t know, we can’t tell.”

Harry reached up and tapped his headset twice with a finger; immediately he heard a bell ring to let him know that the radio was turned on. “Base, this is Leader. Give us a course to our target.”

In Harry’s left ear, he heard Hermione’s voice: “I couldn’t find out wind speed and direction here, so it’ll take me a while to figure out how to correct for drift. Figure that I’ll be leading you lot on a merry chase at first. But let’s start with a heading of Delta Delta Juliet.”

“Heading of Delta Delta Juliet,” Harry replied. “Leader acknowledges.” This translated to a bearing of 117, which was roughly east-southeast.

****

**An hour and a half later**

In Harry’s left ear, Hermione was singing. “La-la-la LA la, la-la-la LA la, la-la-la LA la, la-la-la LAA.”

Harry asked, “What are you singing?”

Hermione replied, “ ‘ _Ritt der Walküren_ ,’ Ride of the Valkyries, by Richard Wagner.” Then keeping the melody but changing the lyrics, Hermione began to sing, “Kill da WABbit, kill da WABbit, kill da WABbit, kill da WAB-BIT—”

Hermione interrupted her singing to tell Harry, “You’re three miles from target, Leader.”

Harry replied, “Three miles from target, acknowledged. Going silent in five seconds, Base. I’ll have a status update for you soon.” _Unless I die in the aerial battle_ , Harry did not add.

Hermione’s voice _almost_ was calm. “Live long and prosper, Leader. Base out.” Harry tapped his headset twice to turn broadcasting off.

He called out to the broom-flyers, “We’re three miles out. Slow down to match me.” He magically braked his broom and kept braking, till his ground speed would have been legal in any school zone in any Muggle Britain city. By the time Harry was again surrounded by his broom-flyers, he was almost on top of Malfoy Manor. Up here, Harry could see the manor house clearly (because he remained unaffected by the manor house’s Fidelius charm), but none of the other four people could see the manor house.

“I see it,” Harry said to the broom-flyers. “We’re almost at Malfoy Manor, almost there, we’re—”

Around Harry, all four broom-flyers gasped. George said, “Merlin, it just _appeared_.”

Harry grinned. “And _this_ , lady and gentlemen, is how to outsmart a Fidelius charm! And oh, by the way? We five are now _inside_ whatever wards Lucius Malfoy has up.”

Four broom-flyers now grinned at Harry; those grins were bloodthirsty.

“Stop motion. Shift to attack position,” Harry ordered. Everyone, including Harry, did so.

Harry said, “Now, you four are going to cast _Bombarda Maxima_ —it’s _Bombarda_ times ten—at the four corners of the house. The wand-motion for _Bombarda Maxima_ is a forward thrust. One, you get the near-left corner of the manor house; Two, you get the near-right corner; Three, you take the far-left corner; Four, you get the far-right corner. When you each cast your _Bombarda Maxima_ spell, put your heart into it—make your intent be that your corner of the house gets turned into gravel and matchsticks. You four will fire together when I count down to zero. Any questions?”

Moody asked, “What will you be doing, Leader, whilst we four are blowing up the corners?”

“I’ll be using the _Bombarda Maxima_ spell on the middle of the roof, and I’ll be firing a second before the rest of you do. So hopefully tonight, I can fulfill the _prediction_.”

“Weightless Dobby, come here!” Harry called. _Pop_. Dobby appeared astride Harry’s broomstick.

Harry said to Dobby, “Plan Two first, then Plan One. _Go_.” With a _pop_ , Dobby disappeared. “Counting down: Three—”

****

None of the evil wizards in the Malfoy Manor dining room noticed, nor did any of the werewolves in human form notice, but every Malfoy house-elf elf- _pop_ ped out of the manor house, onto the lawn or gardens that surrounded the manor house. Dobby alerting the house-elves when the manor house was about to be destroyed, was Plan Two.

Plan Two assumed that the abused house-elves of Malfoy Manor would give no warning to their human masters; that the Malfoy Manor house-elves would be obedient but not loyal.

The house-elves, on their own initiative, did something that Harry had not known about and had not planned for: The house-elves rescued Florean Fortescue and Garrick Ollivander, who had been held prisoner in the manor house’s dungeon. Once rescued, the two injured wizards were laid out flat on the lawn.

****

“Two,” Harry said.

****

Dobby elf- _pop_ ped into the Malfoy Manor dining room, by the chair of Narcissa Black Malfoy. Dobby laid his hand on Lady Malfoy’s robes-covered leg, then Dobby elf- _pop_ ped himself and Narcissa to Grimmauld Place, where Kreacher was waiting. This was Plan One: to rescue Narcissa.

****

Severus Snape just happened to be looking in the right direction to see a house-elf _pop_ by Narcissa Malfoy, to recognise the elf as the former Malfoy elf who was now Harry Potter’s elf, then to see both house-elf and Narcissa disappear with a _pop_.

 _Why did Harry Potter’s elf take Narcissa?_ Snape wondered.

In answer, a picture appeared in Snape’s head, of Harry Potter bursting through the doors into the dining room, with a wand in each hand, shooting _Avada_ s at Voldemort and at anyone else he could hit.

Had Snape stopped to think about it, he would have realised that his idea was impossible. But Snape did not stop to think; instead, he acted. Snape dived under the heavy granite table. This turned out to be the right thing to do, though Snape did it for the wrong reason.

****

Contrary to Harry’s expectations, one Malfoy Manor house-elf was loyal—or at least, was loyal _enough_. Malfoy head elf Chunky elf- _pop_ ped from the lawn into the dining room, grabbed Lucius Malfoy’s hand, and elf- _pop_ ped the wizard out onto the lawn.

****

Harry said. “One. _Bombarda Maxima!_ ”

If things had gone according to plan, Narcissa Malfoy was out of Malfoy Manor, and the house-elves also were out of Malfoy Manor. Harry had no reason to hold back now, so he _intended_ that this entire building, and everyone in it, be _gone_.

****

Less than a second apart, Voldemort saw a house-elf disappear with Narcissa Malfoy, and a different house-elf disappear with Lucius Malfoy.

 _Treachery!_ Voldemort thought.

Snape had just dived under the table when— _BLAM!_ —Voldemort heard a painfully loud explosion upstairs. Voldemort immediately dived under the table as well. He gave no thought at all of trying to save the lives of his Death Eater minions.

Only when it was too late did Voldemort remember that he had left Nagini slithering on top of the granite table. By the time Voldemort thought about imperiled Nagini, most of the manor house was raining down about him.

****

“Zero,” Harry said.

Three male voices and one female voice screamed, “ _BOMBARDA MAXIMA!_ ”

Four beams of aqua-coloured light zoomed down towards the four corners of Lucius Malfoy’s most prized possession.

****

There everyone had been, plotting the Dark Lord’s conquest of Hogwarts, then the Ministry of Magic, then Wizarding Britain—when suddenly, everything had turned to shit.

One second, Lucius Malfoy was sitting in the packed-solid dining room, next to his silent wife Narcissa. At that moment, Lucius and a horde of other Death Eaters, and also werewolves in human form, were helping Voldemort to plan the conquest of the Ministry of Magic. (After Potter and Dumbledore were both dead, of course.)

The next second, Narcissa was elf- _pop_ ped away, without Lucius expecting this or ordering this.

Right afterwards, Lucius felt Crunchy’s tiny hand grasp his, then suddenly Lucius was outside in evening daylight, on his own front lawn.

Lucius was pulling his foot back, to angrily kick Crunchy all the way to Spain, when the roof of his manor house imploded— _BOOM!_ A second later, his manor house was hit by a bigger and _louder_ explosion that sounded like the end of the world had come.

Along with what Lucius heard, Lucius saw his house’s complete destruction within seconds, as if a titan’s flat hand slammed down on the top of Lucius’s manor house. As the top of the house came _down_ , the sides of the manor house came _out_. Debris shot out sideways in every direction, moving faster than a piercing-hex.

Suddenly Chunky elf- _pop_ ped Lucius far away from the exploding ruin of his house—and in doing so, saved Lucius’s life for the second time in under five seconds.

****

**About a thousand feet above ruined Malfoy Manor**

Harry summoned Dobby again; Dobby again appeared astride Harry’s broom. Harry asked his house-elf to remove the dust-clouds so that Harry could see the damage to Malfoy Manor.

Dobby made a wind blow, which revealed the ruined manor house. Harry, looking about, saw that all four broom-riders were smiling now, but Dobby had the biggest smile of all. “Bad former master Lord Blondy gets payback from the Great Harry Potter!” Dobby exclaimed.

Harry asked, “Any problems, Dobby? Or is there anything else I should know about?”

Dobby’s ears drooped. “A problem, yes, Great Harry Potter Sir. Lord Blondy was keeping two wizards in prison in dungeon, to ask them questions and hurt them. Malfoy house-elves rescued the wizards, else the two wizards would have died when you made house fall down.”

“Where are the two wizards at now? And you say Malfoy has imprisoned and tortured them?”

“They’re on the lawn, safe for now. But house-elf Chunky saved Lord Blondy—”

“ _Damn_ ,” said Harry.

“—and Lord Blondy might hurt the wizards if he sees them on his lawn.”

Harry asked, “What about Narcissa? Is she safe at Grimmauld Place?” Dobby nodded. “Dobby, I want you to elf- _pop_ the two wizards to Saint Mungo’s, and stay with them till the Healers admit them to hospital. _Go_ , before Lucius tries any shit with them.” _Pop_ —Dobby was gone.

Now Harry looked around at his four broom-riders and said, “I badly want to blast the manor house again, but I’m feeling a bit woozy. I figure you lot feel woozy too. Hit the house again, or not? Give me your thoughts.”

****

Lucius still was staring towards his once-grand house, which mostly was hidden within a huge dust cloud.

Suddenly a wind came and blew the dust-cloud away, and Lucius clearly could see what was left of his centuries-old house: almost nothing.

Lucius heard screaming that came from the dining room. Lucius did nothing to help the injured Death Eaters; his attitude was _They’re all Purebloods. If they can’t rescue themselves, they deserve to die_. Lucius likewise did not concern himself with the werewolves in human form— _If the Dark Lord wants the mongrels healthy, let_ him _heal them_.

Idly, Lucius wondered if Voldemort had survived. Lucius realised he did not care whether the Dark Lord was alive or dead.

Belatedly, Lucius realised that all the wards were intact, and had signaled no attempted intrusions. _How could we be attacked without the wards falling?_ he wondered. He could not begin to guess.

****

**Minutes later, in the ruins of Malfoy Manor**

Lucius had been surprised at how long he had had to wait after he had Summoned his broom. When the broom finally came to his hand, many of the broom’s twigs were broken, and a foot and a half of the broomstick shaft had been broken off.

Once Lucius mounted his broom, he silently glided over the debris that lay inside his house on the ground floor. But Lucius kept far away from the ruins of the dining room—if the Dark Lord were alive now, he would be burning with rage; and a healthy, unharmed Lucius would become the main target of the Dark Lord’s fury.

Lucius on his broom glided over a white bed-canopy, with white paisleys embroidered into it, that lay strewn across the floor. Five minutes ago, the bed that the canopy had been part of, had been on the manor house’s top floor.

Elsewhere on the floor, Lucius spotted a torn roof tile.

Snapped structural timbers lay about the floor. A delicate end-table that Narcissa had bought in Paris was now smashed to pieces under one such timber.

Many of the walls and ceilings were gone; looking about, Lucius could see many patches of blue sky. Yet the bad news was not completely bad—in a corner of the firewhisky room, which was also a corner of the manor house, two brick walls still stood, though only to waist height—

Suddenly an aqua _Bombarda Maxima_ spell slammed Lucius to the floor, with such force that Lucius hitting the floor broke his legs. However, at the same moment, this spell made the brick wall that was in the corner of the room explode into fragments. Those fast-moving chunks of brick rendered Lucius Malfoy forever uncaring about his broken legs.

****

**Meanwhile in Number 12, Grimmauld Place**

Narcissa gasped as she _felt_ her husband die.

****

**Meanwhile, one-thousand-plus feet above Malfoy Manor**

“Whoa,” said Fred Weasley, as he swayed back and forth. “I don’t think I’ll stay on my broom if we blast them a third time.”

“Okay,” said Harry, “I’ll stop with two blasts. Great job, people, let’s head home. Everyone, move to flight position.”

Harry tapped his headset twice with a finger; he heard a bell ring in his left ear. He said, “Base, this is Leader. Come in, Base.”

With no pause at all, Harry heard Hermione say, “Leader, this is Base.” Hermione sounded happy. Her voice then said, “Request mission-status report.”

Harry said, “Mission status is...,” then he began singing, “Celebrate good times, _come on!_ It’s a celebration.”

****

**Meanwhile in Malfoy Manor**

After the noise of the second magical blast had faded away, all the groaners and screamers of a minute ago now were silent. Malfoy Manor now was as silent as the Little Hangleton graveyard. Voldemort was not accustomed to feeling spooked.

When Voldemort (and Snape) managed to climb out from under the cracked, collapsed granite table, in the ruined dining room, the Dark Lord discovered that Nagini was dead. The big snake was buried under debris. Voldemort also discovered that the horcrux in Nagini was destroyed.

Voldemort was surprised to discover this. He had expected that if one of his horcruxes were destroyed, he would have felt the loss.

Still, he was much more annoyed by the loss of his familiar than by the loss of his familiar’s horcrux. _The loss of Nagini’s horcrux is not a big problem_ , Voldemort thought. _I have four more horcruxes still in play_.

However, the much bigger problem for Voldemort at the moment was that, so far as he could figure, Snape and Lucius were Voldemort’s only two minions still alive—and who could guess when Lucius would return from wherever he had gone?

****

The Healers at Saint Mungo’s contacted the DMLE and told them that Harry Potter had attacked Malfoy Manor, and that there were dead and dying people at Malfoy Manor who needed rescue and recovery.

Aurors and Healers Apparated to just outside the wards of Malfoy Manor, intending to perform a Search and Rescue.

But the rescuers could not see the supposedly-destroyed manor house, nor could they enter the manor house to perform rescues. The Fidelius charm still was in effect, and all the wards were up!

The rescuers were puzzled and confused about how Harry Potter had destroyed the manor house whilst leaving the wards unharmed. In their puzzlement and frustration, the S&R people became talkative—other Aurors, Healers and, later on, friends and family, all heard about what Harry Potter had done to the Death Eaters at Malfoy Manor.

Harry Potter gained as much mystique on 29th July 1996 as he did on 31st October 1981. The legendary “Boy Who Lived” became a legend _again_ , because of him perpetrating the magical-world version of a “locked-room mystery.”

****

**9:23 p.m., about fifteen hours till the Duel  
** **Potter Manor**

Daphne and Neville had not been at Potter Manor when Harry and the broom-flyers had left, but those two friends of Harry’s, along with Hermione, were waiting when Harry and the broom-flyers returned. Everyone felt true relief at the five flyers’ safe return, because the sun had set twenty minutes earlier.

Harry allowed himself five minutes to celebrate, then sent the four broom-flyers home, along with reminders of their Unbreakable Vows to keep their mouths shut.

Then Harry turned to Daphne. “May I borrow you now, to come with me when I talk with Narcissa Malfoy?” At everyone’s confused look, Harry explained, “Just before the attack, I elf- _pop_ ped Narcissa to the Black-family townhouse.”

Hermione said, “Erm, she’s Draco’s mother and Lucius’s wife. Why did you save her?”

“Because in the other 1998, she lied to Voldemort and saved the other Harry’s life, out of love for her son.”

The others in the room nodded, understanding that Harry would feel the need to repay a life-debt that he himself did not owe.

Harry called for Kreacher, and Kreacher elf- _pop_ ped Harry and Daphne into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, since the kitchen was where Narcissa was.

Harry introduced Daphne to Narcissa; Narcissa immediately noticed the Black betrothal ring that Daphne wore.

Narcissa asked Daphne, “Are you here as the future Lady Black, to whom I must defer someday?”

Harry said, “Daphne also is here because she’s my Pureblood Advisor. I ruined my relationship with your son, Narcissa, before it had barely started, because I unknowingly committed an etiquette breach. I don’t want to repeat such a mistake again and make an enemy of you.”

Daphne asked, “What was the etiquette breach?”

Harry answered, “During the firstie trainride, Draco put his hand out to shake. I was offended because of things he’d said about Ron Weasley, so I didn’t shake Draco’s hand.”

Narcissa nodded. “In his first letter home from Hogwarts, Draco spent a foot of parchment ranting about that moment. He wrote, ‘If Scarhead and I were older, I would have challenged him to an honour duel!’ ”

Harry bowed his head to Narcissa and said, “I never apologised to Draco for that, even after I learnt of my blunder, but belatedly I apologise to you, Draco’s mother.”

Narcissa turned toward Harry, and her posture stiffened. “Apology accepted,” she said formally.

Silence.

Narcissa’s posture and voice stayed formal: “Lord Black-Potter, why am I here? I felt Lucius die”—Harry’s eyebrows shot up—“and our house-elf Chunky tells me that Malfoy Manor is destroyed. Why did you save me?”

Harry spoke just as formally: “Widow Malfoy, am I correct that you have never taken the Dark Mark?”

Narcissa pulled up her left sleeve, then her right sleeve, to the elbow. “This is correct, Lord Black-Potter, as you can see.”

“Why not?” Daphne asked. “Your husband took the Mark, and Draco too, so why not you?”

Narcissa answered stiffly, “I try to avoid Muggles; and Muggle-borns always are louts, but I have no wish to murder any of them in order to ‘earn’ my Mark.”

Harry felt relief. “Good enough. I forbid you to spout Blood Purity nonsense in my hearing, or in the hearing of Hermione Granger, the future Lady Potter. Blood Purity talk always sets my teeth on edge.” Narcissa nodded stiffly. Harry continued, “It is my keen hope that you two, Narcissa and Daphne, shall train both Hermione and me in proper wizarding-world behaviour so that we do not come across as louts.”

Narcissa looked like she had just been slapped. Daphne said to her, “Whatever Draco has written to you about Hermione, she is actually much nicer in person. And Harry? _Definitely_ nicer in person.” Narcissa looked dubious.

Harry drew his wand, then said, “Narcissa, you have questions, and it’s time I answered them. First, why are you here? Because I wanted to kill everyone who was in Malfoy Manor tonight, especially Voldemort but also Lucius, but I have no quarrel with you.”

Before Narcissa answered, Harry pointed his wand at the ceiling. “I, Harry James Potter, do claim the House of Malfoy by Right of Conquest. I claim all Malfoy coinage, property and debts as my own. As the new Lord Malfoy, I swear by my magic I shall honour the ‘widowhood’ terms of Narcissa Black Malfoy’s marriage contract. So mote it be.”

Light flashed. Both Daphne and Narcissa were staring at Harry.

Harry spoke formally again, with his wand still pointed straight up: “I, Harry James Potter, who is Lord Malfoy by Right of Conquest, do declare the House of Malfoy to be extinct. I do not name anyone as Heir or Heiress Malfoy, and nobody may claim Lordship of the House of Malfoy after I die. So mote it be.”

Light flashed again.

Daphne breathed, “ _Merlin_ , Harry. First you kill off the Malfoy men, then you kill the Malfoy House too.”

“Exactly,” Harry replied.

Harry’s wand still was pointed straight up. “For a reason I choose not to state, whatever life-debt that Narcissa Black Malfoy owes to me, Harry James Potter, is forgiven. The only obedience she owes me is as a Black daughter to the head of House Black. So mote it be.”

Light flashed again.

Narcissa looked gobsmacked. “You hate what I believe but you save my life anyway, then you don’t even require me to repay a life-debt? _Why?_ ”

Daphne smiled at the older woman. “Because Harry is generous this way. With each passing day, I become more and more glad that one day I shall marry him. Hermione has another explanation: that Harry has a ‘saving-people thing.’ ”

Harry called for Chunky, introduced himself, then sent Chunky to fetch the Lucius Malfoy-Narcissa Malfoy marriage contract from the Malfoy family vault at Gringotts. Once Harry had the contract in front of him, he, Narcissa and Daphne discussed Narcissa’s living arrangements. It was jointly decided that Narcissa would live at the Black-family townhouse at Grimmauld Place till soon before Harry and Daphne would wed; then the question would be revisited.

The time was close to 10 p.m., and Harry presumed that he and Daphne now would leave for Potter Manor. Instead, Narcissa said hesitantly, “Harry? I wish to point out something, because I’ve come to know the Dark Lord quite well over the years.”

Harry and Daphne shared a worried look. “Go on,” Harry said to Narcissa.

“You used the Right of Conquest rule to seize House Malfoy. If Voldemort defeats you in tomorrow’s duel, he can use the rule too. If he defeats you, he could have the wealth of House Potter, House Black _and_ House Malfoy at his fingertips.”

Harry looked at Daphne and sighed. “Great. As if the wanker doesn’t have _enough_ reason to kill me.”

****

**Tuesday, 30th July, about 11 a.m.**  
**One hour till the Duel  
** **Gringotts Bank**

Harry asked to meet with Director Ragnok; the request was granted.

Harry said to Ragnok, “You keep lifestones for all your vault-holders, so whenever a head of House dies, you know immediately. What heads of House have died since 6 p.m. yesterday?”

Ragnok asked Harry why he wanted to know. Harry answered the question, explaining in depth.

Ragnok’s answering smile showed teeth; it was the smile of an eager warrior, not a placid banker. Ragnok magically compiled a list of the heads of House who had died after Harry’s attack on Malfoy Manor, then Ragnok slid the parchment across the desk to Harry.

****

**Meanwhile at Snape’s house in Spinner’s End**

The giants had sent Voldemort a message this morning: After his defeat last night by Harry Potter, Voldemort would not be joined by the giants today in fighting Harry Potter. Voldemort was on his own.

The werewolf packs had sent Voldemort a message this morning: After his defeat last night by Harry Potter, Voldemort would not be joined by the werewolf packs today in fighting Harry Potter. Again Voldemort was on his own.

The vampires reminded Voldemort that they couldn’t fight during daytime, so sorry.

Voldemort should have been scowling because of these three messages, he should have been snarling, he should have been causing someone pain. But instead, if Voldemort were the sort of bloke to smile, he would be smiling now.

Why? Because the Dark Lord had a plan.

So Harry Potter had pulled a sneak attack on him last night? Well, sneak-attacking was a game that two could play! In one hour, Harry Potter would be surprised, then he would be scared, then he would die.


	23. High Noon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title refers to the 1952 Gary Cooper movie, _High Noon_. The main conflict in the movie is utterly different than what Harry Potter faces; but just as with Voldemort in this story, in the movie there is a deadly confrontation between good and evil that is scheduled to be fought at 12 p.m.

**Tuesday, 30th July, 11:50 a.m.  
** **Ten minutes till the Duel  
** **Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey**

Petunia Dursley was sitting and watching the telly in the sitting room, a perfectly _normal_ activity, when she heard a _Pop!_ sound come from the kitchen.

From time to time during the last few years, Petunia had heard the same _Pop!_ sound come from Harry’s closed bedroom door. Whenever this happened, always Petunia had heard Harry’s voice and an excited second voice, just before or just after the _pop_.

Now Petunia considered hiding in the sitting room, avoiding whatever had made the _Pop!_ sound. But then Petunia imagined Lily saying _You coward!_ So Petunia, though she was frightened, made herself walk into the kitchen.

Nobody was in the kitchen, to Petunia’s huge relief. But on the kitchen table lay a letter that had not been there before. The letter was addressed to “Vernon and Petunia Dursley.”

Petunia recognised Harry’s handwriting, though the letter looked like it had been written with a quill pen on strange paper, instead of having been written with a _normal_ Biro pen.

Petunia broke the wax seal(!), opened up the strange paper and began to read.

****

**Meanwhile at the Quidditch pitch, Hogwarts SOW &W**

Whenever school had been in session, Dumbledore always had arrived “fashionably late” to the Great Hall for meals. His clear intention had been that all eyes would be upon him as he walked to, and sat upon, his golden throne. In contrast, today on the Quidditch pitch, Dumbledore was _early_ when he approached Harry, Hermione, Daphne and Neville. The headmaster’s eyes were a-twinkle and he wore a grandfatherly smile on his face.

The headmaster today was wearing lemon-yellow robes and a lavender cap. Hermione muttered, “Oh my, they can see him from _space!_ ”

Dumbledore glanced at Harry’s close friends, then said, “Harry my boy, the first thing we need to do is to move your betrotheds and Mr Longbottom back to the castle where they will be _safe_.”

As frowning Hermione and Daphne drew their wands, Harry chuckled. “Ah, Albie, I was _wondering_ how you would try to take over and try to separate me from my friends. There is no ‘we.’ This is _my_ show, not _yours_ , and your place is _there_ ”—Harry pointed to where Hogwarts faculty had gathered, about twenty yards away—“with McGonagall and the other professors. You are dismissed.”

“Harry, I must insist—”

Harry glanced at Hermione and Daphne. “Now,” he said.

“ _Stupefy_ ,” Daphne and Hermione said together. Two red spells hit Dumbledore, who dropped to the ground.

“Need some help with Mr Inconspicuous there?” a young brunette asked. Harry did not know her name, but she had been a Slytherin prefect during Harry’s first three years.

Harry said, “Yes, thank you, erm...”

“Gemma Farley,” Daphne prompted.

Then Daphne said to the girl, “Gemma, it’s good to see another Snake on Harry’s side.”

Gemma sighed. “There aren’t many of us Snakes _opposing_ You-know-Who, that’s for sure.”

Then Gemma looked Harry in the eyes. “Five years ago, I told firstie Daphne that Slytherin is the House for cunning and ambitious people, not evil people. I believed this then, I believe it now, and I believe You-Know-Who is a _disgrace_ to Slytherin. I’d face him today myself, if I were better at dueling. My mother is a Muggle-born, and You-Know-Who wants to kill her!”

Then Gemma gave Harry a crooked smile. “Sorry about the rant. I’ll go deliver Mr Twinkle-Eyes to Professor McGonagall, hopefully before the show starts.”

Then Gemma paused. She looked Daphne, Harry and Hermione up and down and said, “You three look fabulous. Harry and Miss Granger, the Muggle clothes are a good choice for you today. Don’t let Malfoy or his sort tell you differently.”

Hermione said, “Draco is dead. Actually, _both_ Malfoys are dead—Harry killed them both. _Harry_ is Lord Malfoy now.”

Gemma’s eyebrows shot up. “Would I be a bad Slytherin if I said, ‘I’m glad the blond boys are dead’?”

Daphne asked testily, “Gemma, why did you just address my betrothed, _Lord Black-Potter_ , so familiarly? ‘Harry,’ _really?_ He is the Lord of two Ancient and Noble Houses. Not to mention, he’s a Lord however the Malfoy line fits in.”

Gemma smiled patiently at Daphne. “ _Yesterday_ your betrothed was the Lord of two Houses. _Tomorrow_ he will be the Lord of two Houses. But _today_ , wearing the fabulous Muggle clothes that include _a cape?_ Today to Muggles and Muggle-borns, Harry is a _superhero_.”

As Gemma Farley walked away, levitating unconscious Dumbledore, Neville laughed. “Harry, I can’t believe that you Stunned Dumbledore!”

Harry said piously, “It wasn’t me. It was Daphne and that chronic _dis_ respecter of authority, Hermione Granger, who Stunned him.”

Hermione grinned, whilst Neville said, “I wonder what Rita Skeeter would say if she’d heard all this?”

Harry’s grin was evil. “Let’s ask her.”

Harry pointed his wand at Hermione, said “ _Homorphus animagi_ ,” and blasted her.

Nothing happened.

Harry bespelled Daphne—still nothing.

But when Harry cast his spell on Neville, Neville fell over when he suddenly had a blond woman in his hair.

There was a heavy Auror presence at the Quidditch pitch; the Aurors were intended to fight all the Death Eaters who would come to the Duel. But the youngest Auror was ordered away from the pitch towards a holding cell, escorting an unhappy and handcuffed unregistered beetle animagus.

****

Meanwhile, Hermione had conjured a child’s periscope, and was using it to look over people’s heads to spy on the faculty. “Professor Dumbledore is awake,” Hermione informed her friends, “but now he’s standing _behind_ the other professors.”

“He’s planning something,” Daphne said. “I don’t like this.”

Harry beckoned his three friends to come closer. He asked quietly, “Is everyone wearing their no-mental-magic rune sheets under their clothes?” Neville, Daphne and Hermione all nodded.

****

**Meanwhile at Number 4, Privet Drive**

Petunia read the letter that Harry had written to her and to Vernon—

_30th July 1996_

_Back in 1981, the evil wizard who named himself “Lord Voldemort” murdered both my parents, and tried to murder me. I lived and Voldemort died (technically), but to this day, nobody can explain what happened that night._

_A year ago, Voldemort regained a solid body, by use of an evil ritual in which I was an unwilling blood-donor. A month ago, I was told about a prophecy that says I alone have the power to “vanquish” Voldemort. Note that the prophecy doesn’t say that I_ will _kill him, only that I_ can _._

_A week ago, I challenged Voldemort to a duel. Today at high noon, I face him._

_If you see me at the house tonight, it means I’ve won the Duel. If I’m not at the house tonight, it means I’m at Saint Mungo’s (the wizarding hospital), I’m celebrating with my friends or I’m dead._

_If I’m dead, my friend Hermione or her parents will telephone you soon, about coming to this house and collecting my few personal effects. I TAKE IT FOR GRANTED THAT YOU WILL WANT TO KEEP NOTHING THAT I OWN AS A REMEMBRANCE AFTER I AM GONE. Dudley is welcome to take his clothes back, since they never fit_ me _at all._

 _I won’t write “It’s been nice knowing you,” because this would be a lie. Nor will I wish either of you “Good luck,” because you certainly don’t deserve it. “I hope Voldemort’s thugs don’t kill you” is as friendly a sentence as I can honestly write to you_.

Petunia rushed to the telephone and called Vernon at work. Then she spent the rest of the day waiting for the telephone to ring or for Harry to walk down the stairs.

****

**12:01 p.m. at the Quidditch pitch**

Once a minute since Harry had arrived at the Quidditch pitch, he had cast the Parseltongue Parsel-spell-detection spell, but had gotten no hits. Finally, he got two hits.

Harry was surprised; he had expected more Death Eaters to be coming. Harry thought, _Hot damn, blasting Malfoy Manor actually worked!_

The source of the Parseltongue spells was not anywhere near the destroyed Malfoy Manor. No, the spells had been cast from somewhere in the Midlands. Cokeworth maybe, where Harry’s mother Lily had grown up?

Harry yelled, “ _Voldemort is coming! Places, everyone!_ ”

As Harry expected, soon two (and only two) flying-black-smoke balls landed on the Quidditch pitch; these transfigured into Voldemort and Severus Snape. The duo arrived with wands out, but pointed over Harry’s head.

Harry drew his wand then, but did not cast any spells—two actions which all his allies copied.

****

Nagini the horcruxed snake had not been brought to the pitch by Voldemort. To Harry, this was great news.

So who was here to fight for Voldemort? Only Voldy himself and Snape. Whilst who was here to fight for Harry? Hermione, Daphne and Neville. The Order of the Phoenix, except for Remus, Mundungus, Severus and ex-members Elphias and Molly; Dumbledore was here, but was distrusted. Arthur, Bill, George, Fred and Ginny Weasley; plus Fleur Delacour at Bill’s side. Daphne’s Slytherin cousin Millicent Bulstrode, and Daphne’s Slytherin friends Tracey Davis and Blaise Zabini. Gemma Farley, formerly of Slytherin. Almost all of the students whom Harry had trained in Dumbledore’s Army last year; Luna Lovegood now gave Harry a dreamy smile. Many Hogwarts professors, including the distrusted Dumbledore. Lord Cyrus Greengrass. Many Aurors. Nymphadora Tonks (as one of the Aurors) and her mother, Andromeda Tonks (amongst the Healers).

Today it was the case that Harry’s allies and defenders vastly outnumbered Voldemort and his one defender. This was quite a change from last time.

****

The Battle of Hogwarts in 1998, according to elderly Harry, had happened at night; but fortunately, not during a full moon. That timeline’s Voldemort had brought werewolves (in human form), vampires, giants and many, many Death Eaters; acromantulas were attacking both sides.

Elderly Harry had been very matter-of-fact in his description of the battle, as if he were describing a jumble sale (“I saw perambulators, work boots and bottles of malt vinegar on offer, and a lady would paint your portrait in oils for five hundred quid.”) But behind the plain-words description of the Battle of Hogwarts, _oh_ , the fear for _himself_ that elderly Harry must have felt that dark night, and the fear for _his friends_ , and the _despair!_ Put aside for the moment, elderly Harry’s mistaken belief that the only way that Voldemort could be brought down would be for Harry to let himself die. The battle must have been _terrifying_ for that seventeen-year-old boy.

Just minutes ago, Harry had been called a “superhero.” But the _true_ hero, the man whom Harry respected above all others, was the other version of himself who had faced all the _shit_ of the Battle of Hogwarts—and oh by the way, had emerged alive and victorious.

****

For some reason, once Severus Snape found himself standing on the Quidditch pitch next to the Dark Lord and found himself facing Harry Potter and his allies, neither the Dark Lord nor Potter spoke at first.

This gave time for Snape to think about what he was seeing.

The first thing that Snape noticed about his opponents was what any Slytherin would.

Snape saw that only a few Slytherins opposed the Dark Lord. Whilst Snape recognised the faces of many current and former Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who were allied with Potter, only seven Slytherins stood with Harry Potter: Aurora Sinistra, Andromeda Tonks, Gemma Farley, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass. On the other hand, Snape recalled all the Death Eaters who had died yesterday in Malfoy Manor, or had died nine days ago in Diagon Alley; 95 percent of them were current or former Slytherins. Snape thought, _After today, Slytherin’s reputation won’t be the house of Purebloods, but rather the house of Death Eaters_.

Snape saw that he and the Dark Lord were outnumbered and outmagicked. Disregarding the Aurors, the Order of the Phoenix members, and the many Hogwarts student who had come to show solidarity with Potter, the Hogwarts faculty alone was more than a match for Voldemort and Snape: Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, Septima Vector, Aurora Sinistra, Charity Burbage, and the headmaster.

(Horace Slughorn and Sybill Trelawney, however, were elsewhere.)

Finally, facing off against himself and the Dark Lord, Snape saw, were Harry Potter, Daphne Greengrass and Hermione Granger. Death Eater costumes were designed to create fear, but Potter and his women were dressed to soothe hearts with hope.

****

Daphne Greengrass’s dress robes were white, but with a thin green stripe and a thin silver stripe that ran vertically in front, just to either side of centre. Daphne’s shoes, bracelet, necklace and hair-net also were white.

Hermione Granger was wearing a Muggle sleeveless summer dress, hemmed two inches above her knees. The dress was white, with a thin red stripe and a thin yellow stripe that ran vertically in front, just to either side of centre. Granger’s sky-high heeled shoes were white except for yellow bows and red ankle straps. Her stockings were white. She wore white earrings and a white scarf about her neck that was tied to the side.

But it was the clothing of Harry Potter, who stood between Granger and Greengrass, that drew Snape’s eyes. Potter mostly looked like he was dressed for a Muggle wedding—he wore patent-leather shoes, wool slacks, a silver-cufflinks dress shirt, a bow tie, a swallowtail coat, and a silk top hat. _All of_ Potter’s clothing, including his shoes, socks and belt, was snowy white. Round Potter’s neck, draped over his shoulders and falling down his back, was a snow-white nylon cape.

Harry Potter was a Muggle-raised wizard with a Muggle-born mother, and a Muggle-born girl was betrothed to him; but until today, these were merely biographical facts about the boy. But Potter’s clothing today sent a message: _This is Harry Potter, who fights for the right, who shall protect Muggles and Muggle-borns from wizards and witches who would harm them. He is the Muggles’ and Muggle-borns’ champion_. It was not merely a message of _I reject the idea of Pureblood superiority_ ; Potter’s clothing sent a message of _Fuck you, Tom Riddle and your ilk_.

Granger’s clothing, along with Greengrass’s, sent their own message: _We support Harry Potter, and we stand with him in his fight_.

Snape realised one thing more: _If Potter loses to the Dark Lord, dressed like Potter is now, the boy will look foolish; but if Potter kills the Dark Lord whilst wearing the Muggle clothes and the superhero cape, he will change the politics of Wizarding Britain forever_.

****

Snape realised then, that he deeply respected the young man in white who stood in front of him. In fact, Snape realised, he respected Harry Potter more than he respected every other person here, and this included Minerva and the headmaster. If nothing else, Potter singlehandedly had wiped out all of the Dark Lord’s Death Eaters and had killed the Dark Lord’s big snake—these were notable achievements.

Snape opened his hand, to let his wand fall. Nobody on the pitch had spoken yet, so it was Snape who broke the silence—he took the last breath that he knew he would ever take, to say, “I surrender to the son of Lily Evans Potter.”

“ _WHAT?_ ” Voldemort screamed.

****

Voldemort spun around then, to shoot his favourite green spell at Snape.

After Voldemort _Avada Kedavra_ ed Snape, the Dark Lord glared at Harry. “As I killed Snape, I shall kill you and the pathetic bearded one. Then I shall be master of the Elder Wand, and I shall go on to conquer Wizarding Britain.”

Harry laughed. “Dumbledore doesn’t have the Elder Wand anymore. _I_ had it, for about a minute, then I snapped it in half and burnt up the pieces.” To Harry’s left and right, he heard gasps, whilst Voldemort glared at him. Harry grinned scornfully; “The Deathstick is gone—accept the fact.”

Then Harry said to Voldemort, “You didn’t bring your giant snake with you. Because the snake is _dead_ , right? Here is, _Tom_ , a _marvelous riddle_ for you: What starts with an ‘H’, ends with an ‘X’, and _you have no more of?_ ”

****

“I’ve destroyed all your horcruxes, Tom,” Harry said in essence.

Disillusioned-invisible Dumbledore thought, _You’ve just sealed your fate, Harry. Whether by Tom or by me, you will die today. Then I will kill Tom and become famous forever_.

 _The withering curse is killing me, but I will still achieve heroic fame again before I die_.

****

On Voldemort’s face, Harry saw a split-second of panic, after Harry had told him that all his horcruxes were destroyed. Then Voldemort attacked.

****

One second, Hermione was watching Mr No-Nose _way over there_ , as he and Harry exchanged witty barbs. The next second, Voldemort was directly in front of Harry. Voldemort had not used flashy black-smoke flying to move himself this time; instead, he had used simple (but noiseless) Apparition.

At the same time, Hermione heard Dumbledore’s voice quietly behind her: “ _Imperio_.” At the same time, Hermione heard a bell-sound in each ear.

Dumbledore quietly ordered Hermione, “ _Stupefy_ Harry.”

****

Dumbledore had figured it all out. After he had been _Rennervate_ d from Miss Granger and Miss Greengrass Stunning him, he had moved to stand with the Hogwarts faculty. But Dumbledore had said, “Let you younger folks stand in front of me, so you can see the duel better.” Minerva had given him a suspicious look, but had said nothing. The _instant_ that Tom had appeared on the pitch, Dumbledore had Disillusioned himself, then had hurried over to stand behind Miss Granger. Then Dumbledore had waited.

At the right moment, Dumbledore quietly had cast the _Imperius_ curse on Miss Granger from behind, then quietly had ordered her, “ _Stupefy_ Harry.”

This was when Dumbledore’s grand plan developed unpleasant aspects (translation: _when the plan turned to shit_ ).

Hermione did a 180-degree spin. With her wand up, she yelled “ _Stupefy!_ ”

Dumbledore did not have time to think _No, no, this isn’t what I meant!_ before his world turned black.

****

Voldemort sneered at Harry, “Potter, you think you’re—”

 _Apparition!_ Suddenly Voldemort was not _over there_ , by dead Snape, but was _here_ , two feet in front of Harry.

“—so clever, don’t you?”

Hermione, to Harry’s right, suddenly spun about and yelled, “ _Stupefy! Hominem revelio! Expelliarmus!_ ”

But Harry could not take time to find out what was happening with Hermione. (Or with Daphne, who just had yelled “ _Incarcerous!_ ”)

Even as Harry was stepping forward to meet Voldemort, Harry was hissing “ _§Gladius§_.”

When Harry was right in front of the Dark Lord, Harry’s left forearm swatted aside Voldemort’s right forearm (and the wand that it held). Harry bent his knees a bit, to reduce his right arm’s height from the ground, then Harry plunged his sword-wand into Voldemort’s abdomen, angled up.

Voldemort gasped in pain.

“ _Septumsempra_ ,” Harry said. The spell was deliberately underpowered, but this made no difference when the spell was being cast from inside Voldemort’s chest cavity. A front-to-back, straight-line wound appeared in the Dark Lord’s shoulder, as if an invisible man had chopped down on Voldemort’s shoulder with a war axe, just missing the Dark Lord’s neck. Harry yanked his sword-wand down and out of Voldemort’s body.

The Dark Lord did not gasp again, he did not speak, and his face did not change expression; he simply dropped limply to the ground.

Harry said to dead Voldemort, “The Prophecy is fulfilled: You have died by my hand. Literally.”

The total time from Voldemort black-smoke flying onto the Quidditch pitch, to him dropping dead? Twenty seconds _maybe_. The Dark Lord truly had been vanquished.

****

Harry realised then that neither Hermione nor Daphne were looking at Voldemort; instead, they were looking away from the Dark Lord. When Harry turned round to see what Hermione and Daphne were looking at, Harry saw Dumbledore on the pitch, Stunned and trussed, and Hermione holding two wands.

Hermione shot a stinging hex at the unconscious headmaster. “Harry just did the great deed that he forever will be remembered for, and I missed seeing it because of _you!_ ”

An instant later, Daphne shot her own stinging hex at Dumbledore.

****

**Meanwhile**

Neville used his wand to _Scourgify_ blood-spatter off of Harry’s white clothing.

Whilst Neville did this, Harry switched his sword-wand to his left hand, then he picked up Voldemort’s wand with his right hand. Harry used Voldemort’s wand to _Scourgify_ the blood off his sword-wand. Right after this, Harry murmured “ _§Finite gladium§_ ” to turn his sword-wand back into his regular holly-and-phoenix-feather wand, and pocketed that wand. This left Harry holding Voldemort’s wand in his left hand. No way in hell did Harry want to keep this evil stick as a souvenir; so Harry snapped Voldemort’s wand in half, threw the pieces to the ground, then used his own wand to vanish the pieces of Voldemort’s wand.

Harry then walked over to the corpse of Severus Snape. Harry picked up Snape’s wand from where the potions-master had dropped it, and put the wand in a pocket of Snape’s robes so that the potion-master could be buried with his wand.

Harry murmured to Snape’s corpse, “I won’t name a son after you, but I pledge to shake your hand when I pass over. Be proud of what you did today, professor.”

****

When Albus Dumbledore was revived from being Stunned and was told that it was not a crime to cast a failed Unforgiveable, he thought of his situation as only a temporary inconvenience.

Yes, he would be put on trial for the attempted murder of Harry Potter, and this was scary; but the three witnesses against him (Miss Granger, Miss Greengrass and Mr Longbottom) all were minors—and furthermore, Dumbledore easily could invent plausible reasons for the three teenagers to hold grudges against him.

Besides, Dumbledore had ordered Miss Granger only to cast a Stunner spell at Harry—he was sure he could bedazzle the Wizengamot away from seeing his action as attempted murder.

Much more annoying to Dumbledore was that when he was revived, the first thing he saw was the Spirit of Hogwarts (the woman-shaped marble statue which could move and talk, and which was wearing four-colour robes that displayed the Hogwarts crest) and Minerva. Both the Spirit of Hogwarts and the Deputy Headmistress were looking down at Dumbledore and were scowling.

The Spirit of Hogwarts said, “For attempting to murder a student, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, you are dismissed from every position at Hogwarts School—”

Dumbledore said smoothly, “But I did it for—”

“Minerva McGonagall, you hereby become Headmistress, and the school wards are shifted to your control. The school charges you to repair these wards, which have been reduced to a deplorable state.”

The Spirit of Hogwarts glared at Dumbledore and continued, “The Founders never intended that a cerberus, trolls, marked Death Eaters and the Dark Lord all could enter what was intended to be a haven for magical children. Nor did the Founders intend that wicked students could curse other students in the corridors. Shame on you.”

****

Dumbledore was Portkeyed away (whilst wearing not one but two pairs of magic-suppressing handcuffs), whilst Harry walked back to stand by Neville, Daphne and Hermione. There Harry pulled a parchment list from the pocket of his swallowtail coat.

Harry pointed his wand straight up and said, “By Right of Conquest, I claim the Slytherin, Gaunt”—now he was reading from his parchment list—“Avery, Crabbe, Flint, Goyle, Lestrange, Macnair, Mulciber, Nott, Parkinson, Rookwood, Rowle, Scabior, Selwyn, Travers, and Yaxley Houses; the coinage, property and debts of these Houses go to me. I further declare all of these named Houses to be extinct. Heirs and Heiresses of those Houses lose their Heir or Heiress status, I do not name anyone as Heir or Heiress for any of these named Houses, and nobody may claim Lordship of any of these named Houses after I die. So mote it be.”

Neville stared at Harry, shocked. So did a few others within hearing. But Daphne said breathily, “Ooh, what a _cunning_ way to end the power of the Dark families.”

****

Then Harry yelled, “I call upon the ghost of Myrtle Warren. Please come to me.”

The transparent grey ghost of the bespectacled fourteen-year-old Ravenclaw student appeared on the Quidditch pitch; onlookers gasped at Moaning Myrtle’s sudden appearance.

Ghost-Myrtle looked about. “Wow, sunlight—it’s been fifty-three years since I’ve seen it. Hello Harry, you look posh in the swallowtail coat and the top hat. Why did you call for me?”

Harry replied, “In 1943, you were killed by a Parseltongue-speaking student, Tom Marvolo Riddle.” Harry gestured towards the monstrous-looking corpse a few feet away. “This is Riddle—dead. You are my friend, and I have avenged you.”

“Oh Harry, you are indeed my friend, and you’ve just proven it! This was what was holding me back: not having even one true friend. Now I can pass on.”

Ghost-Myrtle stepped up close to Harry, but looked to Hermione and Daphne when she asked, “May I?” When both of Harry’s betrotheds nodded, Ghost-Myrtle stepped closer, put her hands on Harry’s shoulders and kissed him on the cheek.

Then Myrtle turned opaque, and her grey robes turned white. Myrtle rose up into the sky, smiling for as long as Harry could see her face.

****

**6:26 p.m.  
** **Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey**

The telephone rang. Petunia ran to answer it. “Hello?”

A man’s voice asked, “Is this the home of Vernon and Petun—”

“Yes, yes, I’m Petunia Dursley.”

“I am Dr Daniel Granger. Our daughter Hermione will marry your nephew in two years.” Petunia’s eyebrows shot up. _Harry is engaged and he chose not to tell us?_

The male voice continued, “Are you aware that today Harry fought Lord Voldemort to the death?”

“We’re aware,” Petunia said, “but we haven’t heard how things turned out. Neither Harry nor his lot can ring us from where they’re at, as you know.”

“Hermione sent us an owl,” the man said. “My wife and I just arrived home, so this is our first chance to ring you. Anyway, Hermione wrote to tell us that Harry killed Lord Voldemort, but Harry himself is unharmed.”

Petunia released the breath she had not realised that she had been holding. “Thank you, _thank you_ for telling us this.”

The man said, “Hermione would have rung you herself, but Harry and his friends all are celebrating right now.”

Now the man’s voice sounded disgusted: “Harry is a _hero_ in the magical world, Mrs Dursley, and Emma and I feel _honoured_ that he has chosen to marry our daughter. If the magical people ever find out that your family used to _beat_ and _starve_ Harry, it shall not go well for you. Goodbye.”

****

**Wednesday, 31st July, 1996, one day after the Duel  
** **Courtroom Ten, the Ministry of Magic**

Dumbledore’s attempted-murder trial was held the day after his arrest. His day started badly when he was informed, before his trial even began, that the ICW had voted him out of his Supreme Mugwump position.

Then, once he walked into Courtroom Ten, Dumbledore had to endure the indignity of being stripped of his Chief Warlock title, even if he would talk himself into an acquittal.

But Dumbledore did not talk himself into an acquittal. His _Oi, mates, it was only a Stunner_ defence burnt to a crisp when Cyrus Greengrass said to the room, “A tripping hex isn’t attempted murder either—unless you cast it on someone who is walking up to the edge of a cliff. Harry Potter was fighting for his life against You-Know-Who; if he’d been Stunned then, he would have been easy meat. Which is what Albus Dumbledore planned on.”

Then too, Dumbledore had attempted to murder _Harry Potter_ , who was back to being the wizarding world’s darling again. As a result, the Wizengamot clearly was unwilling to be lenient.

Dumbledore was sentenced to forty years in the maximum-security wing of Azkaban, with all Healer treatments _disallowed_. Dumbledore recognised his official punishment to be a polite death sentence.

****

**Meanwhile at Gringotts Bank**

Now that Voldy and his Death Eaters all were dead, Harry hired the goblins to tear down and to recast the Fidelius charm on Number 12, Grimmauld Place, with Harry as the Secret Keeper.

Also, Harry hired the goblins to permanently remove all wards from Malfoy Manor—“Your last step: Take the wardstones with you!”—and to remove and destroy all Dark Magic objects found at Malfoy Manor. Harry threw in a freebie: The goblins would be permitted to keep any goblin-made objects that they found in Malfoy Manor.

****

**That afternoon, at Potter Manor**

Harry wrote duplicate letters to Auror First Class Salemia Johnson and to receptionist Heather Tidwell (both at Obliviator Headquarters)—

“For your records: Nobody in Obliviator Headquarters informed me what ‘Code FW’ meant, or dropped hints. All on my own, I figured out what the Code meant, and why you’ve made the Code so secret. I’m sure by now you’ve heard the rumours about Malfoy Manor.”


	24. Epilogue, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am embarrassed by this, because it is quite important to me to write clearly. But judging from reviews, some readers do not understand everything that went on in the previous chapter. So I will explain now what I did not clearly explain then.
> 
> The rules for a formal wizard’s duel are never explicitly stated in canon, but I presume that there is some stated minimum distance between the duelists. Because travel-time for a cast spell is not instantaneous, setting a minimum distance gives each duelist a certain minimum amount of time in which to dodge the other’s spell.
> 
> The “sneak attack” that Voldemort decides to do, at the end of Chapter 22, is to Apparate to two feet in front of Harry and to fire a spell from there. This is big-time cheating, by the rules of magical dueling. But why two feet away? Two feet is far enough away that Voldemort can see Harry’s facial expression after the Apparition, and is close enough that Harry cannot dodge Voldemort’s follow-up spell and cannot put up a suitable shield in time.
> 
> Voldemort’s plan, before arriving at the pitch for the Duel, is to duel Harry from the proper distance and to wait for that moment during the Duel when Harry realises he is beaten and soon will die; then, to add insult to injury, Voldemort plans to sneak-attack.
> 
> But when Voldemort is informed that all his horcruxes are destroyed, does he think _Not a problem, because I’ll probably win the Duel anyway?_ No, Voldemort panics and makes his sneak attack be his opening move.
> 
> But Voldemort has forgotten that putting himself two feet in front of Harry Potter means that, just as Harry cannot dodge Voldemort’s follow-up spell, Voldemort himself cannot evade Harry’s spell.
> 
> Harry never in a million years expected to use his _§Gladius§_ spell during the Duel. But now Harry is put in a situation where he can use this spell. Harry’s attack-spell is three syllables whilst Voldemort’s attack-spell is six syllables, so Harry gets his attack in first.

**Friday, 2nd August 1996, 3 days after the Duel  
** **Wizengamot chamber, Ministry of Magic**

Harry was summoned to the Wizengamot to answer questions about the 29th July destruction of Malfoy Manor. Harry appeared whilst wearing formal robes that had twenty House crests on the front; eighteen House crests, including the crest for House Malfoy, were ringed in red.

Harry was asked, “Did you destroy Malfoy Manor on 29th July, killing everyone inside?”

Harry replied, “I destroyed Malfoy Manor on that date, yes. I didn’t kill everyone inside. Before I attacked, I rescued Narcissa Malfoy and all the Malfoy house-elves. The house-elves, on their own initiative, rescued Florean Fortescue and Garrick Ollivander, who were being held prisoner in the dungeon. Somehow Severus Snape and the Dark Pretender Voldemort escaped death.”

“You committed mass murder!” a seat-holder yelled.

“No, it was the Dark Pretender Voldemort and his face-hiding minions who committed mass murder. _They killed innocents_. Whereas I committed an act of war. The only innocent people who were in Malfoy Manor, I rescued, or the house-elves rescued, beforehand.”

“What does Narcissa Malfoy think of what you did?”

“Her name is Narcissa Black; she’s now a widow who has reclaimed her birth name. As for what she thinks about what I did, I suggest you ask her yourself.”

“How did you make the wards fail and make your attack, without Lucius Malfoy responding?”

Harry smiled. “The reason that Lucius Malfoy didn’t respond was because the wards didn’t fail. During the entire attack, the Fidelius charm was up and the wards were undisturbed.—”

“Impossible!” someone shouted.

“He’s lying, he has to be!”

Harry calmly continued, “The wards came down only when I, as Lord Malfoy by Right of Conquest, _brought_ the wards down so that dead Death Eaters’ bodies could be recovered. I’m quite proud of the trick I invented.”

“What _is_ that trick? How did you trick the wards and the Fidelius charm?”

“I refuse to answer that. I refuse to explain any part of that. I know the most valuable military secret in Wizarding Britain, perhaps in the entire magical world, and I’m not sharing it!”

“You _defy_ us? We could send you to _Azkaban!_ ”

“And I’d go, willingly. This secret, I won’t tell my children when they ask, nor will I tell my grandchildren. So why do you think I’ll tell _you?_ There is at least one person in this room whom I’d not trust with the Secret to a Fideliused student trunk—do you think I’ll tell the lot of you how to destroy Potter Manor?”

The Wizengamot members blustered and thundered and threatened. But the result was that Harry did not reveal his secret, and Harry was not sent to Azkaban.

****

**Saturday, 31st August 1996, 32 days after the Duel  
** **The day before the start of the new school term  
** **Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey**

The Dursleys had moved out. The house was empty of furniture, and no Dursleys were there. But the house was not empty of people: several wizards and witches, and one house-elf, stood inside. Specifically, the wizards were Harry, “Mad-Eye” Moody, Neville Longbottom and (representing Gringotts) Bill Weasley; the witches were Hermione and Daphne. The house-elf was Dobby.

Harry was blushing. “I’ve never spoken more than hints about what happened to me inside this house; but ‘Mad-Eye,’ as much time as you spent _outside_ this house, you surely have some idea.”

“Mad-Eye” nodded, frowning.

Neville shook his head. “I don’t understand. What happened here?”

Harry looked at the floor. “For me, Nev, this was a house of horrors.”

Hermione laid a hand on Harry’s arm. “You never told _me_ either, but my eyes worked. Listen, the day I met you, you were sent off to school with clothes that were too big, and your glasses were broken. What _normal_ aunt would embarrass her nephew this way?”

Harry replied bitterly, “Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had a peculiar definition of ‘normal.’ ”

Harry gave his visitors a room-by-room tour of the house, sharing his most unpleasant memories of each room, but speaking with no emotion. All the visitors looked horrified. The visitors were further horrified to see the upstairs bedroom door with locks on the outside and a cat flap in the door, which led into a bedroom with bars on the windows.

But the shock of that upstairs door and that upstairs room was _nothing_ to when Harry led the visitors down the stairs, and stopped partway in the corridor between the bottom of the stairs and the kitchen. When Harry had everyone’s attention, he pointed his wand at the cupboard under the stairs, which for some reason had locks on the outside of the door. “ _Alohomora_ ,” red-faced Harry said and, saying nothing else, opened the door—

What the Dursleys had not taken of their things, they had binned. But what was in the cupboard under the stairs had not been removed and had not been binned; those objects told a ghastly story.

“Mad-Eye” counted fifty-nine dried blood-droplets on the floor of the tiny room or on the undersized mattress. Whilst “Mad-Eye” counted, Hermione and Daphne were both clutching onto Harry and were weeping.

When everyone had looked inside, Harry said in a dead voice, “This was my ‘bedroom’ from age fifteen months to the day I got my Hogwarts letter. My Hogwarts letter was addressed to ‘the cupboard under the stairs.’ Meanwhile, Dumbledore and Gilderoy Lockhart were pocketing money from books that claimed I spent my childhood in a bloody _palace_.”

Harry pointed his wand at the ceiling and said, “I hereby declare that Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey is no longer my home. So mote it be.” Light flashed, and Harry felt the blood-wards collapse. Then Harry looked at his friends and added, “Unofficially, this house _never_ was my home, not for a second.”

Then Harry said, “Bill, the wards are yours. Dobby, get the rest of us the _bloody_ hell away from here.”

****

**Sunday, 1st September 1996, 33 days after the Duel  
** **The first day of the new school term  
** **Aboard the Hogwarts Express**

The “Gold Four” (Harry, Hermione, Daphne and Neville) were sitting in the same train compartment, along with Lavender Brown and Tracey Davis. Harry, Hermione and Daphne all had been selected as prefects of their respective Houses; Hermione was overjoyed by this.

Ron had not tried to enter the compartment, because Hermione had put a “Ron Weasley Notice-Me-Not” charm on the door. But now the charmed door opened. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle peered in, with a blonde standing between them. But this time, the situation was very different than in previous years.

For one thing, neither Vincent Crabbe nor Gregory Goyle were wearing Heir rings, Harry noticed.

Awkward Crabbe and Goyle offered themselves as bodyguards to Harry, and offered firstie Galina Goyle as Harry’s “servant girl.” After the Gold Four asked a few questions, red-faced Crabbe and Goyle revealed that House Crabbe and House Goyle each owed more than ten thousand galleons to House Malfoy; and the condition that Lucius Malfoy had set for not calling such loans due _immediately_ was that each debtor House’s heir would become a bodyguard of the Malfoy heir; and Galina, once she attended Hogwarts, would become Lucius’s and Draco’s “personal servant.” (And yes, this meant exactly what it sounded like.) Vincent, Gregory and Galina were fatherless now, and so had even less chance of paying off the debts than their dead fathers once had.

Harry promised Victor, Gregory and Galina, “I’ll figure out how to settle your debts; but for now, return to your compartment, because I don’t want servants. Galina, one day you’ll marry, and I swear that you’ll be able to look your husband in the eyes on your wedding night.”

****

Meanwhile, Ron Weasley on the train was asked pointed questions about why, if Harry Potter were indeed Ron’s “best mate” as Ron claimed, nobody had seen Ron on the Quidditch pitch on the day of the Duel. Ron would be asked this question for the rest of his life, and he never would think up a convincing answer.

****

**Sunday, 1st September 1996, 33 days after the Duel  
** **The first day of the new school term  
** **Hours later, at Hogwarts Castle**

Just before the Sorting and the Welcoming Feast, Ron Weasley tried to sit down next to Harry—in Hermione’s place. Harry and Neville shoved Ron off the bench and onto the floor.

Headmistress McGonagall’s response? “Mr Weasley, you took the seat intended for Miss Granger, and clearly Mr Potter and Mr Longbottom do not wish for you to sit there. Go sit elsewhere.”

When Ron sat down, between Dean and Seamus, Ron’s ears were red and he was grumbling about “favouritism.” Dean told Ron to STFU. Harry glanced over at the Slytherin table and saw that Daphne was answering questions.

The big surprise of the Sorting was that Galina Goyle was Sorted into Gryffindor. Ron Weasley was loudly opposed to this; everyone else at the Gryffindor table told Ron to STFU. When Galina started to cry, Harry walked from the sixth-year part of the Gryffindor table to the first-year part, and gave Galina a public hug. The entire Great Hall went silent when this happened.

Headmistress McGonagall made introductions before the Welcoming Feast. Gerhard Übersuppe was the new Potions professor; Aurora Sinistra was the new Head of Slytherin. Filius Flitwick was Deputy Headmaster, besides remaining the Charms professor; Charity Burbage was the new Head of Ravenclaw. Charles and Nancy Wood (grandparents of Oliver Wood) were the joint Heads of Gryffindor. Headmistress McGonagall would continue to teach Transfiguration.

The headmistress just had finished announcements, and food just had appeared on the tables, when— _pop!_ —a Hogwarts house-elf appeared at Harry’s elbow. The house-elf held out a folded, wax-sealed parchment to Harry.

****

**A minute later**

Harry walked up to the Head Table. “Headmistress, I have received a letter from Professor Snape, written the day before I dueled Voldemort. Since this letter was written at Malfoy Manor, it’s safe to say the letter was written before I destroyed the place.” This caused a buzz in the entire room. Harry continued, “May I read the letter?”

“You may, Mr Potter. Please speak loudly, so that everyone can hear.”

Harry turned about and loudly said, “Professor Snape wrote—”

Harry read aloud, “I wish to state that I was wrong, grievously wrong, about Harry James Potter. I hated Harry’s father and I saw Harry as nothing other than his father’s son. So I slandered Harry, I oppressed him, and I belittled him. I abused my position as Potions professor when it came to Harry. Only belatedly have I seen that Harry is much more Lily’s son than he is James’. Harry, I apologise to you.

“If the Dark Lord is dead, read this also: I was Headmaster Dumbledore’s spy on the Death Eaters, but to be effective, I needed for the Dark Lord to believe that I was his spy on the headmaster. Both the headmaster and the Dark Lord insisted that I stay at the school as Potions professor, years after I would have chosen to leave the position. Eventually I came to hate teaching Potions, then I took out my anger and frustration on students. Now that the Dark Lord is dead, I apologise to all my former students for being such a poor teacher to them, and I already will have tendered my resignation to the headmaster, effective as soon as he can replace me.”

Harry refolded the parchment, and turned to face the student tables.

“I’ve had many unhappy moments here at Hogwarts, and Professor Snape was the cause of most of them. But in the last two months, since the end of the previous term, I’ve grown to deeply respect the professor. He died a month ago, on the day of the Duel—he died bravely, which we Gryffindors honour. But I also think he saw that Voldemort would not outlive the day, and neither would Voldemort’s mystique outlive the day; so Professor Snape broke away from Voldemort _before_ the professor was stuck with the Dark Lord’s bad reputation. Professor Severus Snape died showing _cunning_.”

****

**Dinnertime, a day later  
** **Monday, 2nd September 1996, 34 days after the Duel  
** **The second day of the new school term  
** **The Great Hall**

Harry, who was carrying two half-foot pieces of parchment, and Galina both walked from the Gryffindor table to the Slytherin table. Harry handed the parchments to Daphne and asked, “Any comments?”

Daphne beamed at him. “This is so _Harry_ of you. Is it okay if I pass them out?”

At Harry’s nod, Daphne handed one mini-parchment to Vincent Crabbe and one to Gregory Goyle. The wording was the same: “The amount of [specified] galleons that House [Crabbe, Goyle] owes to House Malfoy, I forgive. Signed, Harry James Potter, Lord Malfoy.”

Daphne ran around the table then, ran up to Harry, and hugged him quite enthusiastically. One Slytherin muttered to another, “Did somebody _Imperius_ the Ice Queen?”

Gregory looked at his sister and asked, “Galina, how’d you wind up Sorted into Gryffindor? I’m not cheesed off or nothing, I just can’t figure it out.”

All Slytherin eyes were on Galina as she replied, “You know the offer we made on the train, and you know why we made it: because of _Lucius Malfoy!_ But when we offered me to Harry Potter, he said, ‘Go back to your compartment. I want that you can look your husband in the eyes on your wedding night.’ Which was _not_ what Lucius Malfoy would have said! This started me thinking, ‘Do I want to be in the House of Lucius Malfoy, or in the House of Harry Potter?’ When the Hat was dropped on my head, I told it, ‘Please, please, please, make me a Gryffindor like Harry Potter!’ ”

Then Galina looked at Harry and said with determination, “I’m not brave yet, but I _bloody_ plan to work on it.”

Harry and Galina were about to walk back to the Gryffindor table when Pansy Parkinson shouted, “You stole my inheritance, blood-traitor! I _demand_ you give it back. I deserve it more than a _half-blood like you_ deserves it.”

The Great Hall instantly went silent.

****

Harry could not help it; he chuckled. “Miss Parkinson, of all the people in this room, not counting the first-years, you and Ron Weasley tie for being _least_ deserving of anything good.”

“ _Oi!_ ” Ron yelled from across the room.

Harry eyed the sixth-year Slytherins. “Miss Parkinson says I’m a ‘blood-traitor’ because I think Hermione Granger is as good as any Pureblood. Let me take it further, Miss Parkinson: I think Hermione Granger is the _best witch or wizard in this room_. She knows a lot about magic, she knows a lot about the magical world, and she’s loyal when being loyal is _hard_. Hermione invents spells—I’ve seen it. There is no Pureblood who deserves their magic more than does Hermione, and there are only a few Purebloods—Daphne here, Neville Longbottom, the Weasley twins, Susan Bones and the late Amelia Bones—who are _as deserving as_ Hermione.”

“The Mudblood’s manners are atrocious,” Pansy sneered.

Daphne said, “They used to be. They aren’t anymore.”

Harry said, “Speaking of manners, Miss Parkinson—you interrupted me. _As_ I was saying. A month ago, some friends and I dropped in, quite uninvited, on Malfoy Manor. Besides Lucius Malfoy and the Dark Fraud Voldemort, many Death Eaters were there. Including your father, Miss Parkinson.”

Pansy’s look was murderous.

Harry raised his voice, so that the entire Great Hall could hear. “Want to know what a Death Eater is? He or she is a Pureblood who kisses the ... feet ... of a half-blood _fraud_ who tells the Pureblood what he wants to hear. And the Pureblood is so _thick_ that he never notices that the Dark Lord whom he follows, demands big sacks full of galleons, _Crucio_ s his own people, and _A-K_ s his own people. Death Eaters are as stupid as flobberworms, they’re inbred, and they don’t deserve to rule Houses.”

Pansy snarled, “We’re _not_ inbred! That is a Mudblood _lie!_ Nor are we stupid.”

Harry shrugged. “If you say so. All I know is, When I destroyed Malfoy Manor, there were only two survivors: the _half-blood fraud_ Voldemort a.k.a. Tom Riddle, and the _half-blood_ Professor Snape. Not counting Narcissa Malfoy, whom I rescued, _every one_ of the ‘superior’ Purebloods in that house was killed off by me, a _half-blood_. _Hm_ , Purebloods sound pretty inbred to _me_.”

Daphne looked at Pansy and said coldly, “You’re not as bad off as some. It’s two years before you sit for N.E.W.T.s, which means you have two years to study hard. Once you take your first job, save your knuts. But lose the ‘I’m so entitled’ attitude, Pansy—it’s ugly hearing MoRon Weasley spout it, and neither does anybody want to hear it from _you_.”

****

**Friday, 14th February 1997  
** **Four and a half months before Dumbledore’s original-timeline death  
** **Six and a half months after the Duel**

The _Daily Prophet_ reported that Albus Dumbledore died in Azkaban Prison. The cause of death was a body curse.

What the _Prophet_ did not report, but what Headmistress McGonagall discovered, was that upon Dumbledore’s death, his portrait did _not_ appear in the headmaster/headmistress office.

Needless to say, Dumbledore’s corpse was not given a fabulous tomb on the grounds of Hogwarts.

Before Dumbledore had died, Harry had written a letter to him—

“Have you ever considered why God, Fate or Whoever, let _you_ hear the Prophecy, instead of someone else hearing it? Because you held three positions of power. After 31st October 1981, you could’ve trained me, and brought me to others who’d train me, so that I’d have grown up to be a one-man magical army whom Voldemort had no hope to beat.

“Instead, from the very minute my parents died, you worked to sabotage my life, so that at the prophesied battle, my death would be certain and you’d step on my corpse as you battled Voldemort in hope of glory. You were given a great responsibility that _only you_ could fulfill, and instead you failed at this responsibility, _completely and knowingly_.

“No matter how painful the final stages of your withering curse become, I truly believe that you deserve much worse.”

****

**Thursday, 31st July 1997  
** **One year and one day after the Duel  
** **Harry’s seventeenth birthday  
** **Buckingham Palace**

Harry was knighted by the Queen—formally, with a sword-tap on each shoulder. Witnessing the knighthood ceremony were Hermione, Daphne, Neville and Dobby; Queen Elizabeth had not met a house-elf since she had been a princess. Colin Creevy took photographs.

Daphne and Neville were wearing dress robes for the occasion; Harry, Hermione and Colin were wearing dressy Muggle clothes; and Dobby was wearing a scaled-down copy of Harry’s outfit.

Colin Creevy’s best photograph was printed in the _Daily Prophet_ the next day.

****

**Throughout the last five months of 1997, and afterwards**

Whether by accident or the queen’s design, the photograph in the _Daily Prophet_ of Queen Elizabeth knighting Harry, shifted the politics of Wizarding Britain. Immediately Muggle-borns owled Harry with “Can you help me?” pleas, which Harry posted to Her Majesty. The result of this was that the Minister for Magic was summoned to Number 10 Downing Street and was reminded (and was often _re_ -reminded) of a centuries-old treaty between Parliament and Wizarding Britain. The Ministry of Magic, threatened with Wizarding Britain losing its independence, made changes in the following years. Slowly and reluctantly, yes, but the Ministry made changes.

But the biggest force for change was the author-trio of “Potter, Black and Black-Potter,” beginning in 1999, the year after the three teens married. More about this later.

****

**Monday, 1st September 1997, 13 months after the Duel  
** **The first day of the new school term  
** **Hogwarts SOW &W**

Harry, Hermione, Daphne and Neville began their seventh year. Harry and Daphne were prefects again. Stephen Cornfoot of Ravenclaw was Head Boy whilst Hermione, to nobody’s surprise, was Head Girl.

Ron Weasley, meanwhile, had failed his entire sixth year and so was required to repeat it.

****

**Saturday, 27th June 1998**  
**23 months after the Duel  
** **One day after sitting N.E.W.T. exams and finishing the seventh-year term**

In the morning, Harry and Hermione, and Harry and Daphne, were magically married at Hogwarts. Both weddings were held in the first-floor girls’ lavatory by the Charms classroom, where Harry and Hermione once had met a mountain troll. The wedding breakfast (wedding reception) was held in the Slytherin common room. By means of special magical bracelets, the Doctors Granger were able to attend the double wedding at Hogwarts.

Four hours after the Hogwarts wedding, Harry and Hermione were married at Saint George Church of England in Crawley. Daphne was there as the Maid of Honour. Dudley Dursley attended as family of the groom.

Harry, soon after his marriage, converted a large room in Potter Manor, and a large room in Grimmauld Place, into Faraday-cage rooms in which electronic devices worked. Each room was given a computer, a telly and VCR, and the necessary furniture. At Grimmauld Place, Narcissa and Daphne bonded over a new love of BBC period-dramas.

****

**Throughout 1998**

In southeastern England, houses began being sold in the new town of Malfoy. Residents of those houses could shop at brand-new Malfoy Mall, in which was a fast-food restaurant, Harry’s Fish and Chips Dining Room.

Behind the cash register of Harry’s, facing the customers, was an enlarged photograph of a teen boy in a top hat, along with two teen girls, who were all dressed in white. If customers asked about the photograph, they were told, “It’s some sort of in-joke.”

To wash down the fish and chips, Harry’s offered several brands of carbonated beverage, apple juice, and a pure novelty drink: pumpkin juice.

A youth (name-tagged “James”) with messy black hair and striking green eyes, sometimes worked at the Dining Room. James, whenever he was there, manned the cash register and commanded the other employees. Customers, if they thought about James at all, presumed that he was merely the shift-manager because the lad looked so young. Few customers noticed that James bore an uncanny resemblance to the top-hat lad in the photograph.

What residents of Malfoy soon noticed, after Harry’s Fish and Chips Dining Room opened, was the odd group of regular customers that the Dining Room attracted. These regulars were not recognised by residents of Malfoy as fellow residents; indeed, judging by the accents heard, these regular customers had grown up all over Britain. But these odd strangers would gather, would eat fish and chips, and at least once a night would toast “To Harry!”—whilst drinking only pumpkin juice. But at least the odd strangers all wore _normal_ clothes.

This mysterious group of regular customers shared another odd trait. The customer-seating part of Harry’s Dining Room featured a gigantic oval table that was made of stone, and the pumpkin-juice-drinking customers _always_ sat at this table.

****

**1999**

Hermione Potter was selected as the editor for the latest edition of _Hogwarts: A History_ (an honour, by the way, which never was offered to Hermione Weasley in the original timeline). In Hermione Potter’s description of the “Quidditch-Pitch Duel,” she named the seven Slytherins who had stood with Harry. (Hermione also, as Harry had predicted, included in the latest edition a photograph of herself, Harry and Daphne on the day of the Duel, all wearing their white finery.)

But after the new edition of _Hogwarts: A History_ was published, the team of Harry, Hermione and Daphne began writing books that explained Muggle topics to magicals. Hermione was the main author, Daphne made Hermione’s words acceptable to Purebloods, and Harry explained to ordinary witches and wizards what his wives meant. (Always Harry needed to halve the page-count from the door-stop manuscripts that Hermione and Daphne presented to him.) The books that the author-trio wrote became bestsellers, and they changed the thinking of the magicals of Wizarding Britain. The books’ recurring theme was this: “Sometime during the authors’ lifetime, Muggles on computers will knock down the wall of secrecy around Wizarding Britain. You can’t prevent this. Magical society is woefully unprepared for this.”

All of the author-trio’s books were written on computer. The author-trio’s first book, _The Muggles WILL Find Out_ , in 1999 had to explain to magicals the most basic facts about computers, even though Muggles had known about computers since 1946.


	25. Epilogue, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Chapter 23 (“High Noon”), I list everyone who is standing with Harry Potter, ready to battle Voldy and his Death Eaters. All exceptions and omissions in that list are deliberate: Mundungus Fletcher, Elphias Doge, Molly Weasley and Remus Lupin (who each were asked by Dumbledore not to attend the Duel, and who obeyed the request); and Percy and Ron Weasley (each for selfish reasons). Every person who skived off the Duel was stuck with a bad reputation afterwards (except for Fletcher, whose reputation could not get any worse). Whatever romantic feelings that Tonks had for Lupin, ended forever when she realised that he was not standing on the Quidditch pitch with Harry.

**About twenty years later: 7th August, 2019  
** **Wizarding Britain**

In one month in 1996, Harry not only had killed Voldemort and all of his Death Eaters, but then, by claiming many Dark Houses by Right of Conquest, Harry had gutted the power of the Dark families. Heads of House who had been Death Eaters were dead, so could not cast their votes, whilst those votes went to Harry James Potter, the Lightest of Light Wizards. The sons and daughters of Death Eaters had lost their inheritances—and with this, had lost their chance to vote in the Wizengamot in the future.

But not only had Harry defeated the Dark families militarily and politically, but he had put them up to ridicule. Considering how _easily_ Harry Potter, the Muggle-raised half-blood, had defeated Voldemort and the Death Eaters, the entire Blood-Purity doctrine turned laughable. The Blood-Purity doctrine of “Purebloods are superior to half-bloods, who are superior to Muggle-borns” became the Wizarding Britain equivalent of “The Earth is flat.”

After 1996, the many prior laws that favoured Purebloods and that discriminated against Muggle-borns all were rewritten. For instance, take the law that said “A child under seventeen cannot practise magic except at Hogwarts.” This law was unenforceable when the child lived in a house that was behind a Fidelius charm; so in practise, the law stopped only Muggle-born children. In 1997, this law was changed to read “...except at Hogwarts, or inside his or her house with parental supervision.”

For Muggle-borns and even Squibs, life in Wizarding Britain was much nicer in 2019 than it had been in 1996, and _all_ the credit for this went to Harry Potter.

****

**Meanwhile, on August 7, 2019 in Chicago, Illinois, USA**

Carl Deorsam and his girlfriend Penelope Farmer were enjoying the last little bit of summer break before they returned to Texas A & M University. Penelope was the only child of two Dallas optometrists, so Chicago was nothing special to her. But Carl came from Gatesville, Texas (population twelve thousand), so Chicago was—both for good and for bad—a place very different from what he knew.

Carl just had snapped Penelope’s photo with his smartphone-camera, in front of Dagworth’s Drugstore, Dagworth’s Apothecary, and Jim Nelson Insurance. When Carl viewed the photo he just had taken, he noticed something odd—

In the photo, behind smiling Penelope, Dagworth’s Drugstore and Jim Nelson Insurance shared a common wall; Dagworth’s Apothecary had _disappeared_.

He beckoned Penelope over. “This is weird. Come look at the picture I took.”

Seconds later, Penelope was looking at the photo. “My hair is covering up part of my face. Stupid wind.”

Carl said, “No, that isn’t what I meant.” He pointed at the unphotographed business in front of him. “The apothecary store doesn’t show up in the picture.”

Penelope looked around. “ _What_ apothecary store? Honestly, Carl, there is no apothecary store anywhere around.”

 _Is she playing a prank on me?_ Carl wondered. He jabbed his hand forward to point at the store again. “It’s _right there_ , between Dagworth’s Drugstore and an insurance agent.”

“What are you talking about?” Penelope challenged, now pointing in front of herself. “There’s the drugstore, and...”

Penelope’s forearm moved from left to right, and her head moved from left to right, but now her movements were unnatural. _Robotic_. Also, Penelope had quit speaking while her finger was pointing at the apothecary.

After her silence, Penelope finished, “...right next to it is Jim Nelson Insurance. With _no gap_ , I might add. Honestly, Carl.”

During the next minute, Carl got into the strangest argument that he had ever argued in his life. He was insisting that there was an apothecary store right the hell in front of both of them, while know-it-all Penelope insisted that no such store existed within a thousand miles.

Then Carl got an idea. He said to Penelope, “You stay here. I’m going to check on something.” Then, with his smartphone in hand, Carl walked toward the apothecary.

Carl walked the last ten feet toward the door while looking at Penelope. She was watching him walk away from her; her face looked angry, and her arms were crossed. That is, at first she looked like this—

When Carl was about four feet from the door, Penelope startled, she uncrossed her arms, and she began looking around in almost every direction.

 _Almost_ every direction. For an entire minute, Carl stood just outside the door, watching Penelope. In this same minute, Penelope never once looked towards the apothecary store.

Carl, feeling uneasy, pulled the door open and stepped into Dagworth’s Apothecary.

****

**Inside Dagworth’s Apothecary**

The store had no electric lights overhead and no neon signs on the wall; the store was lit only by about a hundred candles. But the candles _were floating above Carl’s head_ , in defiance of gravity. _But how can—?_

Then Carl saw a sign, “Special this week on magic mushrooms,” and realization hit.

Carl breathed, “This place is _magical_.”

In response, the only other customer in the store—a blonde in her thirties with a cooking chopstick stuck in her beehive hairdo—smiled at Carl. The blonde’s smile looked happy but distracted, as if she were listening to the world’s greatest song on headphones.

Carl now went to work with his smartphone-camera, trying to take pictures of the floating candles, the magic-mushroom sign, a sign for “Horned-toad hearts (under stasis),” and everything else that caught his eye.

Alas, his smartphone-camera went on the fritz. When he took the picture of the magic-mushroom sign, he could still make out the words of the sign, but most of the picture was marred by a rainbow of sparkles. When he snapped other photos of the magic-mushroom sign, after stepping back, or moving forward, or moving to the left or right, the rainbow of sparkles changed places in the digital photo, but never went away.

For most photos that Carl tried to take, the rainbow-sparkles problem was so bad that it covered the entire photo. Only for three pictures—the floating candles, which he snapped while standing by the door; the “magic mushrooms” sign; and the “horned-toad hearts” sign _with actual horned-toad hearts underneath_ —were the rainbow sparkles few enough that you could see the subject of the photograph.

Carl noticed that prices were marked not with dollar signs, but with a strange symbol that Carl realized was a ‘G’ with a slash through it—

“ _What are you doing?_ ” a woman’s voice demanded. The store clerk, who _had been_ standing behind the counter when Carl had walked in, now was standing only three feet away. And the woman looked _scared_.

 _Why_ , Carl wondered, _is she pointing a cooking chopstick at me?_ Then Carl was hit with his second realization, and he thought, _Oh, SHIT!_

****

**An instant later**

Carl was _shocked_ when the blond customer-woman rushed to step between Carl and the store clerk, and when the blonde pushed the clerk’s magic wand aside.

The blonde said, “Stephanie Lipton, leave this man alone.” The blonde spoke with a British accent. “Carl Deorsam being here is meant to be. Let events unfold.”

The store clerk demanded, “How do you know my name?”

Carl was wondering the same thing.

Carl said, “Um, maybe I should leave.”

The blond Brit smiled at him. “I will leave with you and say things to you,” she said in a dreamy voice.

Stephanie the store clerk gasped. “You _can’t!_ The _Statute!_ ”

The blonde replied, “I will not inform him about anything more than what he’s already realised. I shall not break the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.”

As Carl thought, _So wizards are real? And they’ve even passed laws?_ , the blonde gently pulled Carl out of the store.

****

The blonde stopped Carl when they were just outside the door to Dagworth’s Apothecary. Penelope, so Carl noticed, now was sitting on a park bench and was looking around—but still never looked at the apothecary.

The blonde smiled a dreamy smile at Carl. “Almost all people have no magic at all. They can’t see this shop because of a special spell, even when the nonmagical people are standing in front of the shop.”

Carl nodded. “Like my girlfriend over there. Magic is why my camera couldn’t see the store until I was _in_ the store, right?” A few seconds later, Carl was showing the blonde his apothecary-less photo of Penelope.

Then Carl asked the question that would change his life: “How do I get my camera to see what you and I see? How do I prove I’m not crazy?”

“You revise electrics, don’t you?” the blonde said mysteriously. “At your uni, you revise electrics—”

“Yes,” Carl said, “I’m majoring in electrical engineering at Texas A & M.” He did not bother to ask how the blonde had known this. “But what does _that_ have to do with anything?”

The blonde smiled mysteriously. “Whatever you figure out on your own, or discover on your own, can’t violate the Statute. I’ve told you all I may, but you’re a smart bloke, Carl Deorsam.”

With those words, the blonde walked away.

****

A half-hour later, the words popped into Carl’s head: _Faraday cage_.

He asked the hotel front-desk clerks where he could find a nearby hardware store.

At the hardware store, Carl bought a few square feet of wire-mesh flyscreen made of copper, four feet of copper wire, wire cutters, and needle-nose pliers. He spent money that, as a college student, he really could not afford to spend, but Carl was a young man on a mission.

It was after sundown when Carl had constructed a tiny little copper box that enclosed his smartphone completely, except for tiny little holes in the copper walls that allowed Carl’s fingers to pass through.

That night in the hotel room, Carl could not sleep. Penelope, on the other hand, slept just fine—on the far side of the bed.

Early the next morning, Carl and his Faraday-caged smartphone were in front of Dagworth’s Apothecary.

The digital photograph turned out poorly—as anyone would expect when he or she would put a flyscreen close to a camera lens. But now the words “Dagworth’s Apothecary” clearly were visible in the photo.

Carl rushed back to his hotel room. A half-hour later, Carl had posted a new blog post that was titled, “Magic Is Real!”

What really convinced readers were the six digital photographs that Carl had uploaded to accompany his blog entry. (The sixth photograph to be posted was created when Carl held his Faraday-caged smartphone in front of a mirror, and the smartphone took a selfie of itself.)

****

The internet’s reaction to Carl’s blog post was _not_ a welcoming _Magic is real? This is delightful to know_.

No, the most common reaction to Carl’s blog post was _Why has this truth been kept from us? We smell a conspiracy!_

****

**August 13th, 2019**

The _Chicago Tribune_ wrote about Carl Deorsam’s blog post, which had been up for almost a week and had become a sensation on the internet.

The _Tribune_ reported that they had sent four sketch artists to sketch the storefront of Dagworth’s Apothecary; but just as with Carl’s girlfriend, the four sketch artists saw no sign of the magical store.

The day after the _Tribune_ printed this, someone visited the _Tribune_ ’s offices in person, dropping off a sketch that showed Dagworth’s Apothecary clearly. The artist refused to give his name, stating “I’ll get in big trouble if you print my name.” This fueled the conspiracy theories anew.

****

What also fueled the conspiracy theories: A young man in New York City had posted photos that he had taken of a magical storefront, by using Deorsam’s trick of the Faraday-caged camera; two days later, a girl in Stuttgart had done the same. But then both sets of pictures had been removed from the internet—and when friends had emailed to ask, “Why did you take those pictures down?”, the reply in both cases had been “What pictures? I didn’t post any pictures.”

The internet conspiracies now became _“They” are brain-wiping people who tell the rest of us about “them”!_

By late August 2019, the belief among many Netizens was “Evil warlocks and witches are secretly plotting to invisibly sneak into our houses, then steal our children and make us forget they ever existed.”

****

Some people who had little or no magic themselves, did not buy into the conspiracy theories—because these people already knew the secret about magic.

In the United States, all former presidents knew the secret; however, outgoing president Barack Obama had judged Donald Trump to be a poor security risk, so had not shared the secret.

In Great Britain, Queen Elizabeth and Prime Minister Boris Johnson knew the secret, as did all living former prime ministers. Besides those people, the Muggle or Squib relatives of Muggle-borns knew the secret.

Some magicals in Great Britain had enough internet savvy that they knew about Carl Deorsam and his discovery, and knew about what the internet was saying afterwards. These magicals were frustrated, because the conspiracy theories that were being shouted online had _no_ truth in them. But because of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, these magicals were banned from coming forwards and setting Muggles straight.

****

The most frustrated of Great Britain’s magicals, because she was the most internet-savvy, was Hermione Potter. She had a website up, “Hermione’s site,” that seemed to be for cat lovers. If you wanted to become a member of the site, you had to give an email address (which “Hermione’s Site” confirmed), and you had to touch your fingertip to a little white box on the member-joinup screen that was inside a grey frame on the screen.

For 99-plus percent of members, what happened next was that they became Red Members. Red Members were allowed to surf pages in which only Red Members could post pictures of their cats, could write funny cat anecdotes, and could share tips on cat care.

But the grey frame on the member-joinup screen had runes embedded in it that were a tiny bit lighter in colour, but the human eye could not see these runes; the runes were Grey-129 against a background of Grey-128. These runes sensed if the new member was magical or Squib, or was Muggle. Magicals and Squibs who joined the site became Yellow Members—

And for them, “Hermione’s Site” offered the only place in cyberspace where magicals could gather.

In the second half of August of 2019, _every_ discussion in the Forum section of the website was about Muggles misunderstanding the magical world that they just had discovered. The magical members of “Hermione’s Site” were frightened.

****

**In mid-August, 2019**

Harry Potter held in-depth discussions with his wives Hermione and Daphne; his relatives Narcissa, Ted, Andromeda and Nymphadora; Cyrus and Opal Greengrass; Harry’s friend Neville, and Neville’s wife Hannah; and Susan Bones. Afterwards, on 20th August, Harry wrote a letter, using pen and paper, and posted the letter to London.

At the same time that Harry posted a letter to London, he owled a letter to Justin Finch-Fletchley and his wife Luna. This letter was a conditional invitation.

****

**1st September 2019, 23 years after the Duel  
** **Twenty-five days after Carl Deorsam discovered magic  
** **Platform 9-3/4, King’s Cross Station, London**

Harry Potter had arrived at the platform early (before 10 a.m.), and was determined to stay till the train left at eleven.

Along with both his wives, Harry brought with him his Black-named children (Vega, Altair and Spica), his Potter-named children (James Daniel “Danny” Potter, Hoskuld Jorund Potter, Emma Lily Potter and Daphne Luna Potter) and Harry’s and Daphne’s son William Cyrus Greengrass; as well as Harry’s cousin once removed, “V.V.” (Vincent Vernon Dursley, a fifth-year Hufflepuff).

Harry’s eight children ran the gamut of Houses: three Gryffindors, two Slytherins, two Ravenclaws and one Hufflepuff. None of the children complained of having been mis-Sorted.

As Harry was exchanging friendly waves with his pink-haired cousin, Senior Auror Ennis, Harry heard a woman say, “You behave yourself at Hogwarts, Harry.” She was not addressing the son of James and Lily Potter. Thirty-nine-year-old Harry grinned at Don’t-Call-Me-Nymphadora Ennis and shrugged a _What can I do?_ shrug.

Harry had never heard of a real-life person named Hermione before he had met Miss Granger on the firstie train; now there were three _Hermione_ s enrolled at Hogwarts (and maybe one more amongst this year’s firsties). _Daphne_ had become a popular name for daughters amongst wizarding families. Amongst Muggle-born fathers or mothers, the preferred choice for what to name their sons had become _Harry_. Harry Potter did not want to guess how many _Harry_ s would step off the red train this evening.

(Oddly, nobody nowadays named their son Draco or Ronald. Perhaps the reasons had something to do with the fact that Draco had been killed with the Dark Mark on his forearm, and Ron Weasley now spent his evenings getting drunk at the Leaky Cauldron.)

When Harry and Daphne saw Blaise and Astoria Zabini approaching the Hogwarts Express with their two children, Harry and Daphne rushed over. Daphne gave her sister a fierce hug, which startled Astoria. (Remember, Purebloods _don’t_ hug.) The reason that Daphne acted so emotionally near her sister was because Daphne knew something that Astoria did not: Five months ago in the original timeline, Astoria Malfoy had died from her blood curse.

****

 _Everyone_ on Platform 9-3/4 knew that the Muggles now knew something about the magical world, but what the Muggles thought they knew, was wrong. Everyone on Platform 9-3/4 knew that Harry, Hermione and Daphne had predicted, _twenty years ago_ , this very thing. Thus _everyone_ on Platform 9-3/4—wizard fathers, witch mothers, Muggle parents, older students and younger students—wanted to share their thoughts with Harry, Daphne and/or Hermione.

The wizarding-raised people wanted to block the Muggles from finding out any more than they already had discovered, and wondered if the thousands of Muggles who already knew something could be made to forget everything they knew.

The Muggle-raised, whether magical offspring or nonmagical family members, wanted the secrets about magic to come out fully. So far as these people were concerned, the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy should be nuked from high orbit, because the Statute complicated their lives so much but they had no recourse to the Statute’s restrictions.

****

**11:01 a.m.**

Harry and his wives watched the red train leave. Harry deliberately had given his children no hint of what he had scheduled for later today.

Harry and his wives, and Neville and Hannah, walked over to Justin Finch-Fletchley and his wife Luna, who were waiting for Harry and his group.

Harry asked Luna, “Are you nervous?”

“ _I_ am,” Justin said, “and _I_ won’t be on camera.”

Luna said in a dreamy voice, “I’m not nervous and I’m not excited. This press conference is destined, and I’m destined to be a part of it.”

Daphne said, “ _I’m_ nervous, and I know it’ll be Harry and Hermione who’ll do most of the talking.”

“I’m _not_ nervous,” declared Hermione. “I’ve been preparing for this day since 1998 or 1999.”

“Well then, people,” Harry said, “shall we get dressed to meet the queen again?”

Daphne, Luna, Neville and Hannah transfigured their casual robes into dress robes; Harry transfigured his casual Muggle clothes into a sharp suit (Justin already was dressed-up posh), and Hermione transfigured her clothes so as to not embarrass herself when she stood near the queen.

Twenty minutes later, the seven late-thirties magicals were riding in a limousine that just had entered a secure garage in Buckingham Palace.

****

**A half-hour later  
** **In a posh room in Buckingham Palace**

Harry had no idea whether this room was regularly used for press conferences, but this was the room’s function today.

In the front of the room was a lectern on a dais, which faced many reporters and some television cameramen—and which faced one man in wizard robes, who had a roll of parchment and an inert quill pen on the floor by his chair. (Harry noted several Muggle reporters pointing to the parchment and quill, and murmuring to each other.)

Also on the dais and near the lectern, an empty chair faced the reporters.

Several feet behind the lectern stood the queen, Elizabeth II; the British prime minister, Boris Johnson; and the minister for magic, Cyrus Greengrass. Harry and his wives and friends stood off to one side; Hermione’s hold on a copy of _The Muggles WILL Find Out_ was a death grip, Harry noticed.

A liveried servant showed the queen his wristwatch; Queen Elizabeth walked to the lectern. The room silenced. The _Daily Prophet_ reporter pulled out his wand and cast a spell at the quill pen, which then rotated almost straight up, ready to write.

(This startled every other reporter in the room, Harry saw.)

The queen said, with calm and aristocratic tones, “Magic is real, though I do not know this except by observation. I myself have no magical power.” The Muggle reporters looked stunned.

The queen continued, “Until today, the existence of magic has been a secret, but it is a secret that nonmagical people have discovered in the past weeks, through the internet. We are concerned about the many untruths that We have read, some of which are hateful and inflammatory. We do not wish for Our nonmagical subjects to harm Our magical subjects because of mistruths. We do not wish for mistruths to cause violent conflict to break out between Our nonmagical subjects and Our magical subjects. We have decided to tell you, Our subjects, the truth about the wizarding world, and about Wizarding Britain in particular.”

The queen then called Prime Minister Boris Johnson to the lectern. The prime minister did not speak long; all he said was to inform the reporters that governing Britain’s secret society of wizards and witches was a secret branch of the British government, the Ministry of Magic; and that the head of this ministry, Minister for Magic Cyrus Greengrass, would speak next. Boris Johnson and Cyrus Greengrass then traded places.

At the lectern, Minister Greengrass announced, “A half-hour ago, the International Confederation of Wizards repealed the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. Magic no longer is secret under threat of arrest.”

The Muggle reporters in the room looked either puzzled or bored by this announcement. Hermione gasped audibly. The _Daily Prophet_ reporter merely nodded, as though he already knew this.

Harry and Daphne also nodded, having expected this.

Minister Greengrass surrendered the lectern back to the queen.

Queen Elizabeth said, “Just as magic has been secret until now, and the magical society of Britain has been secret until now, so too have two wars within Wizarding Britain, in the 1970s and the 1990s, been hidden from Our nonmagical subjects. Tom Riddle, who gave himself the false name and false title of ‘Lord Voldemort,’ was an evil wizard who attacked innocent nonmagicals, the magical children of nonmagicals and those who upheld magical law. Imagine Adolph Hitler, home-grown on British soil, wielding a magic wand. Riddle was devastating to magical Britain, and he was unstoppable—until he was stopped by a fifteen-year-old magical boy, Harry James Black-Potter. Harry Potter killed Tom Riddle and all of Tom Riddle’s wizard minions, then Harry Potter destroyed the political power of Riddle’s sympathisers. Harry Black-Potter at fifteen was a true hero; and _Sir_ Harry Black-Potter will address you quite soon.”

Blushing Harry waved at the reporters, as Hermione, Daphne, Neville and Luna all grinned at him. Justin slapped Harry’s shoulder.

The queen resumed: “Finally, We wish to note that the current ‘crisis,’ of nonmagical people with computers discovering the magical world, Sir Harry Black-Potter predicted _twenty years ago_.”

Hermione, grinning, held up her copy of _The Muggles WILL Find Out_.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press, We give you Sir Harry Black-Potter,” the queen said, then she stepped away from the lectern.

Harry walked to the lectern. But rather than starting to windbag, Harry invited Hermione and Daphne to the lectern with him, and introduced them as his co-authors for twenty-four books. Harry spelled Hermione’s name for the reporters.

Then Harry said, “My parents were both magical, but for reasons that don’t matter here, I was raised in the nonmagical world till I was eleven years old. Daphne Black”—Harry gestured towards her—“was raised in the magical world, so she can answer questions about the magical world that I can’t. Hermione Potter”—Harry gestured towards the bushy-haired brunette—“is magical, but her parents and family aren’t; the first time Hermione met a magical person was on her eleventh birthday.”

Harry took a breath and said, “Let me give you the view of one wizard and two witches about Carl Deorsam’s blog entry. There are three levels of magical people: nonmagicals—which people in Wizarding Britain call _Muggles_ ”—Harry spelled the word—“even though Hermione and I think _Muggles_ is a rude word, so we prefer _Mundanes_. The other two levels are magicals and Squibs.” Harry spelled this last word. “Certain magical spells affect magicals and Mundanes differently, and whilst Squibs cannot themselves cast spells, they react to spells as wizards and witches do, not as Mundanes do. From what Carl Deorsam wrote on his blog, the three of us are sure he’s a Squib.”

Harry said, “In a moment, I will surrender the microphones to Hermione Potter, who is the best spellcaster amongst the three of us. But before I do, let me tell you that concentrated magic makes electronics go pear-shaped—this is why Carl Deorsam’s smartphone-camera took bad pictures in the apothecary shop. Finally, please look at the empty chair next to me. Take a hard look at it.”

The Muggle reporters glanced at the chair, then looked sceptically at Harry. _It’s a chair. We’ve seen chairs before. What trickery is this?_ On the other hand, the _Daily Prophet_ reporter gave the chair a long, searching look.

Hermione, once she took the microphones, said, “We three believe that Dagworth’s Apothecary was charmed with a Merchant’s Fidelius charm”—Hermione spelled-out the new word—“which is a variation on the Fidelius charm.”

Hermione explained about the Fidelius charm, then she said, “But I’m sure you want a demonstration. I’ve made myself the Secret Keeper for this next part.” Hermione said formally, “The portrait of Harry Potter’s parents is resting on the chair by the lectern.”

The Muggle reporters all gasped, and the _Daily Prophet_ reporter startled, when a framed portrait seemingly appeared from nowhere. The Muggle reporters were _shocked_ when Portrait-James and Portrait-Lily waved at them, and when Portrait-Lily said, “Hello, nonmagical people. I spent my first eleven years in the nonmagical world, just like dear Hermione did; and Hermione was known at her magical school as ‘the brightest witch of her age.’ So ask Hermione lots of questions, because I’m sure she knows the answers!”

Hermione, Harry saw, was blushing furiously as she said, “Anyway, the three of us believe that Dagworth’s Apothecary had a Merchant’s Fidelius on it when Carl Deorsam saw it. The way a Merchant’s Fidelius charm works is that it’s as if every magical person already was told the Secret, without anyone actually _needing_ to be told a Secret. So the British blonde, being magical, and Carl Deorsam, being magical _enough_ , were able to see through the Merchant’s Fidelius to see the apothecary shop, which Carl’s girlfriend Penelope could _not_ see, because she was Mundane. Harry?”

Harry returned to the microphones, as Hermione backed away. Harry said, “I’d like to call up here, Mrs Luna Finch-Fletchley.” Harry spelled her name. “She is the blonde with the British accent whom Carl Deorsam met in Chicago, in Dagworth’s Apothecary.”

As beehive-hairdo’d Luna walked to the lectern, the Muggle reporters were murmuring, or were looking stunned, or both.

Luna began her time at the microphones by explaining to Muggles about the just-repealed International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. The Statute being in effect during the Dagworth’s Apothecary incident was the reason that Stephanie the shop clerk drew her wand and almost attacked Carl Deorsam, and was why Luna had not publicly spoken about the incident till now, even though she edited a magical newspaper.

****

**Later in the press-conference room**

Luna stepped away from the microphones, glancing at Harry as she did so. Harry returned to the microphones and said, “The four of us have no more prepared remarks. Now we’ll take questions from you lot.”

Harry pointed to a bottle-blonde whose clothing was too bright for Buckingham Palace. The blonde said, “Betty Chatter, _The Sun_. Sir Harry, I’m curious why your two female co-authors have the same names as you. Are they your _sisters?_ Your _cousins?_ ”

As Luna laughed in delight, Hermione sighed. “Honestly, Harry, couldn’t you have picked someone from the Cambridge _Varsity_ or the Oxford _Telegraph_ first?”

****

**After the press conference  
** **Potter Manor library**

Harry, Hermione and Daphne, Neville and Hannah, and Luna and Justin were discussing their Buckingham Palace adventure with Portrait-James and with Portrait-Lily.

Both Hermione and Daphne had their arms entwined with one of Harry’s arms, and both witches were giving smoky looks to Harry.

Neville said, “Harry, for the past twenty-three years, you’ve been the most famous wizard or witch in Wizarding Britain, and one of the most famous in the entire magical world. Now you’ve made yourself famous to the Muggles too. Today your fame goes far beyond what Dumbledore could only dream of.”

Hermione smirked. “So much for your wish for everyone to treat you as ‘just Harry,’ Harry.”

He shrugged. “Not being ‘just Harry’ is fine, I’ve decided.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “It _is?_ For as long as I’ve known you, ‘just Harry’ has been your number-one wish.”

Harry smiled at Daphne. “Back before the Duel, Daphne wrote me a letter that convinced me that if I kept trying to act like ‘just Harry,’ the Death Eaters would come back—”

Daphne blinked. “You remember that?” Then Daphne purred, “Ooh, you are getting _so lucky_ tomorrow. _Felix felicis_ lucky tomorrow.”

Harry smiled at the other people in the library, including his portrait-parents. “The main reason I can feel contented about never becoming ‘just Harry’? Right now, I have the two most wonderful witches in the world as my wives. All is well.”

**The End**


End file.
